Fall Free
by Ziva- Zia- Z
Summary: 2 years have passed, w/violence in Ireland taking a deadly front seat to everything, the Mossad Director's daughter & Ambassador's son find themselves struggling to keep their children- & themselves- from choosing sides in the fighting. But they soon discover, that sometimes the sides you pick- or don't- not only define who you are, but who you love. Set 2 years after Left... ends.
1. Chapter 1

**Skyfall**

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Summary: Two years have passed, with the violence in Ireland taking a deadly, vicious front seat to anything and everything, ****the Mossad Director's daughter and the Ambassador's son find themselves struggling to keep their children- and themselves- from choosing sides in the fighting. But they soon discover, that sometimes the sides you pick- or don't- not only define who you are, but who you love. ****Set two years after _Left your Heart Torn_ ends. **

The school bell rang loud and blaring, releasing the kids of Clontarf and the surrounding towns from the confinement of the classroom. In the two years since Belgrove had been bombed by ARBI- the Army of the Republic for British Ireland- it had taken a year to rebuild all the schools in the complex and get everything they needed, and the other year or so to hire all new staff for each school. The kids had all being forced to spend their summers in the classroom, of which none of them minded, if it meant bringing back some semblance of normalcy in the chaos they lived in.

Asher slammed his locker shut, and hefted his backpack onto his shoulder, before grabbing his duffel bag and reaching for his broom... He looked around, confused. It had been _right here_, leaning against the locker next to his, where he'd set it to reach for his chemistry book off the top shelf of his locker, and now it was gone. He turned briefly in a circle, confused beyond reason as to how a green, white and black broom could just disa-

He stopped, feeling something hit the back of his head. Slowly, he turned around again, not noticing the person matching him move for move a foot behind him. It wasn't until he was again hit on the head that he finally turned around, finding the girl standing behind him. "_Devin."_ He sighed, shaking his head. Devin O'Maura was Asher's neighbor, living three houses down from his parents house in Clontarf. She'd lost her father two years prior, in the early months of the 'New Troubles' as the world had nicknamed the violence in the republic, and had found Asher's father, Tim, as a surrogate father- asking him for advice and wanting his opinion, like she'd never get from her own father again.

She handed the broom back to him, but refused to let it go, and he ended up pulling her with it. She wrapped her arms around his neck, giggling. He gently brushed her thick red braid off her shoulder, his arms moving to encircle her waist as he rested the broom against his closed locker door. Though they went to separate schools on the same campus- the all girls' schools and all boys' schools were the oldest in Clontarf, before the bombings- the girls still got out earlier than the boys, and so only then, when school got out for the day, were the girls allowed in the boys' schools without supervision. "Don't you have dance-"

"I do, I_ jus'_... figured I'd tell_ ye_ goodbye before _goin' t'_ class." He rolled his eyes, but leaned back against his locker. "Don't _ye 'ave_... practice?" He nodded.

"Yeah, I... I do." She nodded, as Asher took a deep breath.

"So... see_ ye_ later." She bit her lip, nodding silently. Their lips soon met in a soft kiss, that was broken all too quickly by the sound of whistling. A blush crept over Asher's cheeks, and he pulled away to see a couple of his friends, also with their Curling brooms and gym bags, waiting for him. He glanced at Devin, who quickly pulled away, embarrassed. "Oh,_ Sheket b'vakashah_!" The other boys held up their hands in surrender, but were soon shoved aside as Keavy Gallagher pushed herself between them.

Already dressed in her curling uniform, her long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, Keavy was zipping up her green and white jacket, the orange lettering spelling out her name in cursive on the breast of the light jacket. She grinned at Asher and Devin, shooting a glare over her shoulder at the others boys. "_'ey_ Asher." He returned her smile, even as she looked around for someone. "Where's Liron?"

"Getting Zip-" He stopped, as his baby brother and sister joined them.

Zipporah had already changed into her leotard and tights for dance; Liam and Liron were with her, talking amiably. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a bun, and she wore a pair of bright blue legwarmers, her dance bag slung over her shoulder. She held tight to Liam's hand, their fingers loosely laced together. None of the kids would admit that they were in relationships or dating- only that they were taking things slow by getting to know each other, and all had used the same boundaries Tim and Ziva had set up for them two years earlier. They were all perfectly happy with the boundaries and none of them wanted to do anything to mess it up.

"Hey Devin. Ready?" The older girl nodded.

"_Aye,_ I'm ready. _Ye _ready?" Zipporah and Liam nodded, and after a moment, he pulled away, but not without a quick kiss. He too played Curling, on the same team Asher was on, and though Liam was younger than Asher, he'd been playing curling from the time he was a child- his grandfather had taught him and his siblings how to play from the time they were old enough to hold a broom, and so Liam held the position of_ Skip_ on the Curling team. The Belgrove Curling team had more than one team- for both the boys and the girls- but Liam was _Skip_ for the main team at the school. And Asher, though he hadn't been playing long, had worked his way up to Vice Skip, which was basically the co-captain, as the two boys liked to look at it.

Both Asher and Liron shivered; it was still strange to see their baby sister holding hands with and kissing a boy, even one they were both good friends with. Zipporah glared at them, and opened her mouth to say something, when an explosion shook the school. The students left on school grounds rushed outside, in time to see a plume of black smoke rise into the horizon. The fighting and violence had gotten worse, with disappearances, murders and bombings happening almost every hour of the day. "Hey! Hey, McGee, Quinn, come here! _Ye t'_, Gallagher." After a moment, the three joined one of the coaches of the boys' Curling team. "We've decided_ t'_ cancel practice. We think _'twould_ be _bet'r_ if_ ye_ all went _'ome t'day_. _Esp'cially wit' tha'_ explosion_ bein'_ so close."


	2. Chapter 2

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 1. **

She lay on the sofa, her head in her husband's lap. They had finished what they needed to for work- and since the block their offices were both on had been bombed six months after they were first given paid leave to work at home thanks to the Troubles- they were free to do as they pleased. She reached up, brushing her fingers against his jawline. He caught her hand and brought her fingers to his lips, kissing them gently before biting down tenderly on her fingertips. "Ow, Tim! I've told you, don't bite!" But before she could sit up and retaliate, he had her pressed into the sofa.

"Unless you can bite back, I _know_." He replied, their noses meeting. She laughed, letting her hands trail down his back and over his ass. Their lips met in a soft kiss that soon turned passionate-"

_"Ima! Abba!"_ The sound of the door opening and their children's voices sent them rolling off the edge of the sofa onto the smooth decorative stone floor between the sofa and the coffee table. "Practice was canceled so-" Groaning, Tim pushed himself up; he'd gotten the hard end of the floor by hitting first, and his head was starting to hurt.

"Wh... what are you doing home so soon, I thought you had-"

"Ziva... _Ziva_!" She turned back to her husband. "You've got your knee in my stomach." She quickly scrambled to her feet, helping her husband to his.

"Sorry, baby. You okay?" Tim nodded, hand to the back of his head.

"Yeah, just gonna go... ice my head... and maybe my spine." As their father headed into the kitchen, Asher dropped his duffel bag and backpack by the door, setting his broom beside it.

"They canceled practice. Someone blew up a restaurant near school and so the coaches canceled classes. Said they thought it'd be better if we didn't have practice today." Ziva nodded, understanding.

"And your brother and sister? Are they at dance?"

"No." Ziva looked around her son as Zipporah dropped her dance bag beside her brother's things. "Canceled it because Ms. O'Hara hasn't been seen since last night." Her mother covered her mouth in shock. "So we came home." Ziva nodded, silent.

She noticed Devin, Keavy and Liam slip into the house behind Liron, who'd gotten the mail. Her children's 'not-boyfriend-not-girlfriends' as she and Tim so often called them- since the kids_ refused_ to admit or even_ consider_ that_ any_ of them were in relationships- were such regular fixtures at the house that neither of the former agents thought much of it anymore. And with the way things had been going in Clontarf, the other parents had even agreed that the kids were most likely safest with Tim and Ziva- the couple being former American Federal agents after all.

"Hi, Mrs. McGee. Sorry _'bout_ this." She waved Keavy's comment away, watching as the girl took Liron's hand, leaning into his shoulder. She chuckled, going into the kitchen to fix a cup of tea, as her children, Liam, Keavy and Devin settled in the living room, and began working on their homework.

* * *

Tim sighed. He'd gone upstairs to get some quiet after the kids came home, but the never-ending silence only served to make his headache from hitting the floor worse. As he splashed water on his face and grabbed a towel, he heard his cell ring, and stepped out of the bathroom to grab it. A quick look at the caller ID, and he started, before answering. "McGee." Mentally, he kicked himself; old habits die hard.

"McIrish! How're you _doin'_?" Tim paled, dropping the towel.

"Tony? How... how'd you get my number?" He and Ziva had changed numbers when they moved, partially as a precaution with Parsa still out there, and partially because they wanted a fresh start- with everything.

"I may have charmed Dr. D into giving it to me." Tim groaned. He knew what Tony really meant; in translation:_ I begged and begged and begged and annoyed and refused to leave Tali alone until she caved._

"Well, it's good to hear from you again, DiNozzo, but I have to go. I've got some things for work I have to finish, and I'm on a deadline. I'll talk to you soon." He hung up amid the Senior Agent's protests, grabbed the towel and dropped it in the hamper, and then hurried downstairs. The last thing he needed right now was to deal with Tony- especially after he'd gotten a call from Siobhan, who'd asked him if he'd seen the news this morning. Turning the TV on, he'd been stunned to see an explosion in Ballinteer, County Dublin, Southside. Tim's aunt Fiona lived in Southside, in Ballinteer, just off Ballinteer Avenue. Various explosions had been set up, and there was a mound of wreckage for miles in the town. Tim had been planning on heading up to help sift through the destruction, in hopes of finding his aunt, when Tony called, hence the reason for coming upstairs- grab a to-go bag and head out to help.

His wife looked up as he came downstairs. "Everything all right, baby?" He nodded, sighing.

"Yeah. Tony just called, but if I'm going to make it up to Ballinteer to help, I have to go- _now_. I don't have time to sit and chat. The more time that passes, the greater the odds of finding Fiona's body, not her. I can't risk it. It would destroy Penny- Fiona was the oldest of the original McGee siblings, after all. She was Penny's first baby, the first _woman_ in her family to be elected to _Dáil Éireann_, the Irish House of Representatives." Ziva crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, listening. She adored Fiona, but didn't know much about the older woman with the thick Irish lilt and her penchant for progressive Irish literature. Tim sighed.

"While her little sister, Brigid became the first of the McGee girls to become an ambassador- the Irish Ambassador to America, and Siobhan the first female in the family to become Chancellor of Dublin University, and Dad- the only son-worked and..." He crossed his arms over his chest. "_neglected_ his way up the ranks to American Ambassador- after moving to America at eighteen and marrying his wife-" Ziva winced, knowing he was referring to his childhood and how he and Sarah had often been left behind while his father strove for the diplomacy. "_Fiona_ was the one to make sure Penny knew all her grandchildren, that she kept in contact with her siblings and their offspring. Fiona's the one that kept the McGees together, no matter_ where_ they ended up. After _Da_..." He swallowed. "After_ Da_ sent Sarah and I back to the States, Fiona was the one to call and make sure Sarah had gotten settled with Penny, to make sure I had settled into MIT okay. She called Brigid and Siobhan, to make sure they knew we were all right. And Fiona was the first one Penny called when she found out about you and Asher."

Ziva went to him, taking his face in her hands. He sighed as he reached up to take her hands. "Oh Tim-"

"I have to make sure she's all right, Ziva. I can't just... wait until they find her body, I have to know."

"Will they let you in now? To the sight?" He shrugged.

"When I called, the detective in charge said to come down about five or so, they'd let family of victims in the bombings come in and help. I'll head out now, better to be there early in case..." He stopped, unable to say the words, but Ziva understood. She nodded.

"Go. Give Fiona a kiss for me." He nodded, kissing his wife quickly.

"_Abba_?" Zipporah stood by the door; the kids had heard everything, and none of them bothered hiding the fear they felt. "C... Can we come?" He shook his head, going to his daughter. He knelt down, meeting her gaze.

"No sweetheart, you and your brothers have to stay here. But I'll be back soon. Okay? I'll be back so soon you won't even notice I'm gone." He pressed a kiss to his daughter's head, before wrapping his children in a hug, pressing a kiss to each of his son's heads before leaving. The three watched him go, and as he drove off, Zipporah slipped between her brothers, curling in between them, their arms holding her close. Asher swallowed, as Ziva joined them at the door.

"I don't... I don't have a good feeling about this, _Ima_." Asher said, turning to meet his mother's gaze. Ziva sighed, wrapping her arms around her son's neck from behind and pressing a kiss to his head.

"Neither do I, my angel. Neither do I."


	3. Chapter 3

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Ziva pulled herself away from her baking to check the kids in the living room- all were working on their homework, with the TV on in the background. Zipporah was sitting in the armchair, legs over the side, with Liam sitting on the floor in front of it, back against the bottom of the chair. Devin and Asher shared the sofa, both on opposite ends, their homework spread out between them in the center, and Liron was sitting beside Jethro, working on his homework at the coffee table, Keavy lay on her stomach beside him, reading the chapters she needed to for her English assignment. Ziva watched in silence as her youngest son reached down and gently tugged on Keavy's ponytail. The girl looked up, glaring at him, though her glare was quickly replaced with a smile as Liron leaned down and kissed her sweetly on the lips before returning to his homework.

She turned back to the kitchen when she heard the phone ring, and grabbed the wireless off the wall. "McGee residence." Silence met her on the other end of the line. "Hello?" She sighed, before hanging up the phone with a roll of her eyes. As she returned to her baking, she said a silent prayer for Tim and the other volunteers in Ballinteer. The sound of someone logging onto Skype drew her attention, but not enough to take her away from her baking.

"There's our Mama Ninja!" She stopped, turning to find Tony smiling at her from the laptop screen.

"T... Tony?" The Senior Agent grinned at her. "Wh... what are you... how..." She stopped, stammering.

"I'm in England with Bishop. We're on assignment." He replied. Ziva furrowed a brow.

"Gibbs told me when I talked to him that day that you were-"

"Yeah, I know. But the assignment got pushed back. Wasn't as urgent then as it is now."

She nodded, biting her lip. "Um... Tony, if you don't mind me asking... what is your assignment, or... what does it deal with? I... I know I'm no longer an agent so it's classified, but..."

"Oh, it involves what's going on in Ireland." Ziva raised an eyebrow. "Your... problems or..."

"The Troubles?" Ziva turned, as Zipporah entered, grabbing a clean mug out of the dishwasher and pouring a cup of coffee.

"Yeah, your troubles..." Tony leaned close, trying to see who'd walked in, and only ended up smacking his head on the webcam. Ziva snorted softly, covering her mouth. "Who's that?" He whispered, rubbing his forehead. Ziva rolled her eyes. "Come on, Zee-vah, who is it?" But at that moment, Zipporah slipped into her mother's side, resting her head on Ziva's shoulder.

"_Shalom_ Tony. It's good to see you again." Tony didn't bother hiding the confusion on his face as he stared at the young girl with his former partner, trying to place how he knew her and where, and- more importantly _who- _she was. He stared at the girl for several minutes, struggling to place her.

"I... I swear I know you, but I can't think from where... were you a witness on a case the Original Three worked together?" He asked, referring to his former partnership with Ziva and Tim.

"No." He thought a moment.

"Oh! I know. I met you at a bar, right?" The girl made a face.

"_God, no_!" He bit his lip, mentally crossing that off the list.

"You must have stopped by the bullpen when the Original Three were together then-" Zipporah thought a moment, before nodding.

"You _used_ to see me in the bullpen." She replied, wrapping her arms around her mother's waist and returning her head to her Ziva's shoulder.

"Well, then... I... who... where..." Ziva chuckled softly and finally decided to put her former partner out of his misery. Grinning, she lifted her daughter's head from her shoulder, looking into the girl's bright green eyes before turning to Tony saying,

"Tony, you remember my daughter, Zipporah." The Senior Agent's mouth dropped as his eyes widened, and he looked back and forth between the two slowly, before speeding up as he began to connect the dots in his head.

"N... _no! No way!_ That... there's _no way that's Zora_! She... she's small and... and petite and... and looks like you, Ziva and... and has Tim's eyes and..." He stopped, leaning close to study the girl. "Oh my God... that's Zora!" Ziva chuckled softly._ "She grew up!"_

"That's what happens when you have children, Tony. They tend to grow up." Ziva said, pulling away from her daughter. She returned to her baking, quickly kneading the dough as she listened to Tony question her daughter.

"And so what, your mama's turned into a housewife? That's strange, because I... I really can't picture her as one." Zipporah glanced behind her, meeting her mother's gaze.

"No. She and _Abba_ work, but they've been working from home since the Troubles began."

"Speaking of McDaddy, where is McGee? I talked to him earlier, but he hung up on me." Ziva sighed, turning from her baking.

"There was an explosion in Ballinteer today, Tony. It's a town in County _Dún Laoghaire–Rathdown_, Southside Dublin." Ziva said, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "Tim's Aunt Fiona lives there. Her block was hit, and Tim went up to help search for survivors. You called just as he was leaving. We're hoping Fiona will have survived." She tossed the towel back onto the counter and opened a cabinet, reaching for a baking pan.

Tony sighed. "Wow. I... I'm sorry about that, Ziva." He bit his lip. "Is there anything you need? Bishop and I will be here in London for a while, you want me to come down and-"

"You can't come down, Tony." He started, surprised at her quick reaction.

"Why not? It's just a hop over the border-"

"That's the problem, DiNozzo. They're _watching_ the border. Outsiders aren't allowed in, and insiders aren't allowed out. You'll be stopped at the border if you try to come in and most likely shot for your trouble. And even if you were allowed, you wouldn't be coming in anyway, because it's too dangerous. So it's just... it's better if you just... just stay away."

"But Ziva-"

"_No, Tony_. Just stay out of it, okay?" He nodded silently, watching as Zipporah sipped her coffee before heading back into the living room with a wave. Ziva sighed as she slid the pan into the oven, and closed it, turning back to him. She brushed a strand of hair off her forehead, resting her hands on her hips with a smile. "We're fine, Tony. I promise. We're all fine."


	4. Chapter 4

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

She quickly dialed the number, her fingers shaking. He'd been gone for two days, and she was scared; it wasn't only Asher who had a bad feeling about Tim going up to Ballinteer, but the entire family. She forced herself to hold her breath, lest she missed his voice on the other end of the line. "_'ello_?"

"A... _Abba_?" A moment passed, before she heard her father's voice.

"Zip, hey, sweetheart."

"Are... are you on your way home?" He sighed.

"Not yet, baby girl." He whispered. We're still... still sifting through wreckage. Looks like it's gonna take the rest of the week. But I should be home by Monday. Okay sweetheart?" She nodded, though he couldn't see it. Zipporah felt tears begin to clog her throat; Tim only ever called her 'baby girl' when things were really bad and he didn't want to worry her if he hadn't talked to Ziva about it. The two simple words only set Zipporah's worry on a higher elevator, and she choked on a sob.

"O.. Okay."

"Everything all right at home?"

"_Ken,_ I... I just... I miss you,_ Abba_. I want you home."

"I miss you too, sweetheart. And I'll be home soon. I promise."

"Okay. _Abba_... I... _I'm scared_." He sighed, taking a deep breath to calm the quiver in his own voice.

"So am I, sweetheart. But everything will be okay." He paused, and she could hear voices in the background. "Look, I've gotta go, but I'll talk to you tonight okay? I'll call and wish you goodnight. That sound good?" She nodded. "Tell_ Ima_ and your brothers I love them, and that I'll be home as soon as I can."

"I will."

"Good. I love you, baby girl."

"Love you, too, _Abba_." But as she went to hang up, his voice stopped her.

"Hey, don't worry baby girl, we'll be okay. We'll all be okay, I promise." She nodded, sniffling, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks. Leaning back against the wall, she whispered,

"I... _I love you lots, Abba_." He chuckled softly, fighting the tears in his own voice.

"I love you lots, too, Zipporah. I'll be home next Monday, I promise. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Bye." After she hung up, she slid down the wall, wrapping her arms around herself. Her brothers and the girls were outside in the backyard with Jethro, and Ziva was upstairs taking a shower; the kids had turned off the digital clock in their parents' room and taken her cellphone and allowed their mother to sleep in this morning, but Ziva- who's internal clock was just as deeply set as Tim's- was up at seven-fifteen instead of the four or five she normally woke up at, and then, she had scrambled to get dressed, thinking she'd overslept and would be late for work.

Zipporah took a deep breath, choking on a sob. She had a bad feeling about her father being away- a very bad feeling. The nightmares she and her brothers shared had returned- though they had never really gone away, they'd just morphed as the kids had gotten older. All she wanted was for her father to be home, with her and her brothers and their mother, where he was safe. Zipporah didn't pretend to be Tim's favorite child- he loved all three of his children equally, but because she was Tim and Ziva's only daughter, there was a certain... bond they shared. A bond that had been formed with her father when she was still in utero, and that grew after she was born and as she grew. She was Tim's only daughter, his baby girl, and she didn't hesitate to admit that while she loved her mother, the bond with her father was stronger.

"Zip?" She looked up; Liam stood over her, worry in his eyes as he watched her. She reached up, brushing a tear off her cheek. "You okay?" She nodded.

"I just... _I miss Abba_..." She choked out as he took a seat beside her and let her curl into his side.

"_Yer Da_ will be_ 'ome_ soon, Zip-"

"But what if he gets hurt? Or... or something happens? Another explosion? What if someone bombs his car or shoots him?" She asked, pulling away to look at him. He reached up, gently cradling her cheek.

"_'e'll_ be fine, Zip. _Yer Da's_ a former _Fed'ral_ agent._ 'e_ can take care _o'_ himself." She nodded, sniffling. "Okay?"

"Yeah." He pressed a soft kiss to her lips; she rested her forehead against his when the kiss broke, and took a deep breath. "I... I just want him home."

* * *

Tim sighed, wiping at the dust on his forehead. Zipporah's call had been the one bright spot in a day filled with shifting rubble and pulling dead bodies from the wreckage. He took a deep breath, turning to the next house, and stopped. He knew this house, the land it stood on. He'd stayed at it when he was a child, slept in the bedroom, helped in the kitchen...

Slowly, robotically, he began to help sort through wreckage, moving aside the burned debris of things he'd grown up around- chairs, picture frames, plates. As he moved aside part of the kitchen table, he stopped. A shock of blonde hair caught his gaze, and he worked faster, finally removing the last piece, revealing whom he hoped it wouldn't be. His heart dropped into his shoes, and he struggled to swallow. One of the other volunteers noticed Tim's reaction and pushed him back towards the police and EMTs. He went as ordered, and as soon as he reached the ambulance, his knees gave out. He struggled to breathe, unable to get the image of his aunt out of his head. How... how would he tell Siobhan and Brigid? How would he tell Ziva and the kids?


	5. Chapter 5

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Ziva looked up at the sound of a car driving past. With the rash of violence that had accumulated over the last couple years, her former Mossad senses kicked in, and she was attuned to every little noise or movement. It was the one good thing she took from her time in Mossad, as far as she was concerned. The kids were inside, playing Scrabble upstairs in the hallway with Jethro laying on the stairs. A moment passed, before she set her cup down and went into the living room, hearing the sound of a key in the lock. The tumblers worked, as the key turned, and she stopped, considering grabbing something to defend herself if someone was picking the lock. Just as she reached for a steak knife, the door opened, and Tim stepped inside. She instantly set the knife down and rushed to him.

"Oh thank God it's you, Tim. I thought it was someone breaking in-" She stopped, feeling his arms wrap tight around her waist and hold her close. It was then that she felt his shoulders begin to shake, and she pulled away, looking up into his eyes. "Tim, baby, what's wrong? What happened?" She cradled his face in her hands, silent. Tim choked on a sob.

"She's dead..._ Fiona's dead_..." He choked out, fresh tears sliding down his cheeks. While Siobhan was the aunt Tim loved most and was closest to, Fiona had been his absolute favorite. She'd been fearless, living as she saw fit, forgoing marriage like her siblings to chart her own path in life, and she'd taught her niece and nephew to think the same. During her time in the House, she'd pushed the majority of the laws currently in place through; she'd been an advocate for everyone, choosing to do what was right over what was comfortable. Sure, her way of thinking had earned her enemies plenty, but it had also earned her unwavering admiration and respect. Tim had grown up around Fiona, with her progressive attitude, her constant reminders that the changes in the past couldn't be forgotten, they had to be_ improved_ on, her love of cotton candy and Irish coffee... and now, she was gone.

Thanks to the violence she had warned about-

Fiona had been the first to warn that what the north had experienced was just waiting for the right moment to begin in the republic. No one had believed her, and thanks to Parliament's ignorance of her warning, she and hundreds of others were dead.

"Oh, baby, I'm so sorry._ I'm so, so sorry..."_ Tim broke down, burying his face in his wife's hair, holding tight to her, as the kids came downstairs, having heard everything.

* * *

He looked through the scrapbook, seeing the articles but not. All he could see was Fiona's lifeless gaze, her pale skin, the blonde hair. He took a deep breath, reaching for the glass again. Tim didn't drink- only occasionally- but he was never a heavy drinker, not like Tony. But tonight, all he wanted was to feel numb. That night, after dinner, after the kids had gone to bed, after he and Ziva had walked Liam, Devin and Keavy home- with each giving him a hug and their condolences- Ziva had walked him upstairs, closing and locking the door behind them. They'd climbed into bed and she'd pulled him into her arms, whispering softly, humming gentle Hebrew lullabies to him as she stroked his hair. She'd let him sob, holding tight to him, reassuring him that she was here, that she was all right, that the kids were all right. He'd fallen asleep in her arms, against her chest, the sound of her heart in his ear.

Now though, he sat in the living room, looking through the scrapbook of the Troubles from Northern Ireland, looking through old photographs of Fiona and her family, of his summers up here with Sarah and their aunts when they were growing up. "_Abba_?" He looked up; he hadn't even noticed Zipporah come into the living room. She sat beside him, resting her chin on his bicep. _"Ani mitzta'er, Abba_." He sighed, turning and pressing a kiss to her head.

"I know you're sorry, sweetheart. So am I."

"Why are you sorry,_ Abba_?" She asked, pulling away to look at him. He licked his lips, thinking.

"Because I wasn't there. I should have been there, and I wasn't there. If I'd been there, if I'd gotten there sooner-" He set the photographs he held on the table, and rubbed his face with his hands. "If I'd been there, instead of waiting for the police to call to tell me that I could get there once the bomb squad left..." He stood, pacing. "then maybe Fiona would still be alive. _If I had just gotten there sooner_!"

Zipporah watched her father, tears in her eyes. So far, the Troubles had managed to stay away from her family, but this... something in the pit of her stomach told her that this was just the beginning.

* * *

The next morning, Tim came stepped out of the bedroom, to find Zipporah waiting for him. Dressed and ready for school, she had her dance bag slung over her shoulder, her thick dark hair in a braided ponytail down her back, like her mother. "Sorry, _Abba_. I didn't mean to scare you." He relaxed, giving his daughter a smile.

"That's okay, sweetheart. You ready for school?" She nodded. "And your brothers?"

"They're downstairs with _Ima_."

"Good." He headed for the stairs, and Zipporah rushed to catch up, slipping her hand into her father's. He looked at her, and she gave him a small smile. Zipporah had listened the night before as he told her stories about his summers in Ireland, about helping Fiona bake or going to the theater with her, or even, occasionally, stopping by the House with her to meet the other representatives.

At one point, Ziva had come down and perched beside her daughter; she'd woken up and, unable to go to sleep without her husband by her side, she'd listened to the stories, the memories her husband had laid at their feet, and when he'd exhausted his throat, and his eyes had gone red from the tears, Ziva had pulled her husband close, pressing a kiss to his head before getting up and leading both him and their daughter back upstairs. Zipporah had wrapped her arms around her father, pressing a kiss to his cheek, whispering that it would be okay.

Zipporah had only officially gone to bed after sneaking towards her parents' room. She'd gently opened the door, to find her father's arms tight around her mother, his face buried in her hair, sound asleep. Satisfied that her mother had taken care of him like she was supposed to, she'd returned to her room and gone to bed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Bishop turned on the TV in the hotel room she and Tony shared. He was currently sprawled out on the second bed, staring at the ceiling. They'd been working this case for weeks, hoping to catch some lead to the men smuggling weapons into Ireland; they knew the men worked both sides- the ARBI, that Tony had just learned stood for the Army of the Republic for British Ireland, and the IUFI, Irish for a United Free Ireland- but couldn't pin down anyone that had ties or was willing to point fingers.

He sighed. They had no leads and no way of getting into Ireland to follow any possible leads- Ziva had been right- the borders were tightly guarded, anyone with a visa from any other country was turned away, no matter who they were or what they worked for. He and Bishop had been turned away almost as soon as they'd climbed out of the car.

_"... the ARBI has made it very clear that those opposed to remaining a part of the British Crown..."_ He sat up, gaze gluing to the TV. He didn't understand the politics or the language through the accent, but he clearly understood the threats issued. Bishop watched as Tony scrambled to his feet, snatching his phone off the table.

"Everything okay, DiNozzo?" Bishop asked, looking up from the files she'd brought with her on the case. He ignored the blonde sitting on the floor. He went to the window, looking out. Somewhere, across the border in the Republic, were his best friends and their children, and he was going to do all he could to keep them safe.

They were his family, after all.

"Hey, Boss... yeah, I... I think I have something... yeah, I... I think I know how... they're recruiting people on the _inside_, not the out..."

* * *

_"Come on, Asher! Sweep!"_ He turned, to see Devin and his siblings in the stands, watching the Curling teams practice, and raised his arms, clearing asking her what the hell she was doing there. When the coaches allowed a break, he, Liam and Keavy- coming over from the girls' main team, who were practicing on the other section of ice, since both schools shared the Curling arena for games and practice- headed over to the stands.

"_Wha'_ are _ye_ three _doin' 'ere_?" Liam asked, as Keavy stepped off the ice and went to Liron, stealing a quick kiss. Asher grabbed his water bottle out of his bag and took a sip, capping it quietly. "_Dinna ye 'ave_ practice?"

"_No' wi'_ Ms. O'Hara gone. They canceled for the _res' o'_ the season. Too dangerous,_ wi'_ the school directly downtown." Devin replied, as Zipporah got up, going to Liam. She stepped onto the small patch of ice he was on, and he caught her around the waist, steadying her as she got accustomed to the slick ground beneath her. All three were dressed in coats and gloves, as opposed to the pants and light uniform jackets the other three wore. Zipporah shivered, despite the military-style coat she wore.

"Cold?" Liam asked, chuckling.

"_Ken_. I don't see how you _aren't_. It's practically freezing here." Asher chuckled, glancing at Devin, who stood, going to Asher and laying her head on his shoulder as he pulled her into a hug.

"_Ye ge'_ used_ t'_ it." Keavy replied, stealing another kiss from the younger girl's brother. "We also stretch _'fore_ practice, so..." She shrugged, watching as Zipporah nodded and curled into Liam's hug. Her older brothers watched as she pulled away, tilting her head up and accepting Liam's kiss. She turned to glare at them both when they blanched.

"Oh, so _you_ can kiss but I_ can't_?"

"No. It's just... seeing you kiss is... just..._ wrong_." Liron replied, wrapping his arms around Keavy and pulling her into his lap on the bench.

"From a _brother's_ standpoint." Asher added, as his younger brother wrapped his arms around the_ Skip_ of the main girls' Curling team at Belgrove and kissed her. Keavy giggled, kissing him again. "It's just... _wrong_ for you to be doing that."

"So you agree with_ Abba_?" Zipporah asked, pulling away from Liam and crossing her arms.

"I _didn't mean_-" But all too soon, the coaches signaled the break over, and the three were forced to return to practice. They watched the teams scrimmage, the boys against the girls- and Liron and Zipporah enjoyed the up-close look at their brother play, since they were usually in the stands during games. When practice ended, Liam, Keavy and Asher joined the others, gathering their things and leaving the arena, headed home. The kids quickly fell into a familiar routine, joking and laughing as they walked home, like they were used to doing as they walked home from school.

"_'ave ye 'eard_?" The others turned to Devin. She held tight to Asher's hand as they walked.

"_'eard wha'_?" Keavy asked, as Liam slipped an arm around Zipporah's waist and pulled her close as they walked. Both Asher and Liron pretended to ignore as he slipped his hand into the pocket of their sister's coat, lacing their fingers together. Devin glanced around, before stopping and turning to the others.

"They're_ recruitin'_."

"Who?" Zipporah asked, glancing at her brothers. Devin bit her lip, looking over her shoulder and then leaned close, whispering,

"The ARBI _an'_ the IUFI."

"What are those?" The younger girl rolled her eyes, quickly correcting. "I know what the ARBI is, but what's the IUFI?"

"Irish for a United Free Ireland." Devin and Liam replied in unison.

"Oh." Zipporah licked her lips, before asking, "Who are they recruiting? And why?" Devin took a deep breath, taking Asher's hand and squeezing. She glanced at the others before saying,

"They're recruiting teenagers_ an'_ kids._ Usin' 'em t'... t'_ write_ t'_... 'penpals'_ ou' o'_ the _count'y,_ who are really people who... who send packages _tha'_ are really weapons used in the_ fightin'_. One _o'_ the girls in _me _History class told us_ durin'_ lunch. Her Da's an officer." She swallowed. _"Ma_ wants me_ t'_ be careful, _an' no' t'_ go out alone."

"But... why teenagers and kids?" Zipporah asked, confused. Asher started, surprised his sister was asking.

"Isn't it _obvious_, Zippa? Because who's gonna suspect someone like us? As far as the police know, people our age are innocent in all this. Which makes-"

"Us _an'_ others our age the perfect scapegoats." Devin finished, squeezing Asher's hand.


	7. Chapter 7

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Tim removed the headphones from his ears, pausing the music he listened to when he wrote and looked up, to see Asher in the kitchen. Ziva was baking; she'd talked to Tali today, and the two sisters had gotten into a heated argument over Skype, to the point that Tali- _not_ Ziva, which had surprised Tim- had ended the conversation, and hadn't called back to apologize. He hadn't asked what the argument had been about, or why they'd been arguing over the topic, but he knew that it annoyed Ziva to no end that she hadn't gotten the last word in in regards to her sister. "There something I can help you with, or are you just going to stand there?" He jumped as his wife slammed down a muffin tray, muttering something in Hebrew.

"Um..." Asher glanced at the stairs, and Tim recognized the familiar glint in his son's gaze; the boy was considering his options: go through with asking or bolt while he had the chance.

"Um? Not much to go on, sweetheart." His father replied, getting up and pouring another cup of coffee. "Zi, calm down. I'm sure Tali didn't mean it-" But his wife swatted her hand in front of his face, clearly not in the mood to talk. Tim rolled his eyes and returned to his writing. Asher sighed; his father knew him too well.

"Um, _Abba_..." Tim stopped working on his latest manuscript, and sat back in his chair, stretching his fingers. He'd been writing for the last couple hours, and even with the minor break, his fingers were starting to hurt. His father sighed, picking up his coffee.

"If you want something, you're going to have to form a coherent sentence that goes further than two words, Asher Malachi." The boy nodded, swallowing.

"Um, _Abba_, there... there's this... this..." He stopped, as Ziva slammed the egg beater down and plugged it in. Tim sighed, holding up a hand to stop him.

"Zi... Ziva..." He got up, tugging gently on her ponytail. She jumped, turning off the beater.

"_Ow, what_?" She demanded, turning on him. He glared at her.

"Don't break the appliances. Remember what happened last time you lost your temper? Thanks to you, the blender needed an upgrade." She glared at him, but he stopped any sort of reply by kissing her quickly and forcefully before pulling away. "Now what was it you-_ ow_!" His wife glared at him as she returned to her baking, having gotten the last word in with a good smack to the back of her husband's head. Asher giggled, watching his parents. Tim rolled his eyes and turned back to his oldest son. "Now what were you trying to ask?"

Asher bit his lip. "Um... there... well... Michael Duddy is having a few of the others from the Curling team over at his house for... for a... a small party to... to celebrate..." He stopped. Tim knew what they were celebrating. It had been a week since Belgrove's Curling teams- both the boys and girls- had won the county titles, which meant they'd soon go on to play nationals. "I... I was... wondering if... if I could go... if... if Brother and I could... Keavy's going to be there and so is Liam and..." Tim met his wife's gaze, and he narrowed his eyes.

"Zi, _don't_." She sighed, going to Tim and quickly scanning the paragraph he'd been working on before turning to her son. The last thing Tim wanted was a fight- they'd gone through enough of those the first few months after they'd moved to Ireland, and Tim was enjoying the relatively calm peace that settled over the household when he and Ziva weren't fighting. In as calm a voice as she could muster, Ziva asked,

"Who else is going to be there, besides Keavy and Liam?"

Asher thought a moment, glancing at the laptop. Tim chuckled softly, watching as his son's gaze immediately returned to his mother. In his head, he heard Kate chuckle, _"No matter how hard he tries, your boy can't lie Tim. Poor thing, he's gonna have a hell of a time with women- he won't be able to lie to them."_

"Devin's going and... and Reagan Kirkpatrick and Emma Maguire and..." He listed off the various members of the Curling teams- both boys and girls' teams- and the few close friends he had outside of Curling that didn't include Devin. A good majority of them danced with Devin, Zipporah and Liron. He explained everything that was going to happen, adding that Michael's oldest sister- down from University in Dublin thanks to the chaos- was going to chaperone; which, to all the kids, made them all feel a bit safer, and that there'd be no alcohol or drugs. Just friends celebrating a couple winning titles. Asher watched his parents, waiting.

"Let me talk to _Abba_ for a minute, okay, my angel?" The boy nodded, scurrying back upstairs where his siblings were hiding in the stairwell, listening. Once he was gone, Ziva turned to her husband. "I don't like it, Tim." He sighed, saving his work and shutting his laptop, all possible endings for his chapter out of his head.

"Ziva, it's_ just a party_. They've gone to parties before and there haven't been any issues." He said, putting his laptop away and returning to the kitchen. She crossed her arms, meeting his gaze. "Besides, if we don't let them rebel a little now, they'll just rebel as they get older, and it'll be worse then. Or they'll start rebelling once they hit _college_, and then _God help us_." He whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. She sighed. "Besides, he's told us who's going to be there, who's chaperoning, what's_ not_ going to be there, and how late it's going. They'll be fine." He pressed a kiss to her ear, purring, "Haven't you ever rebelled before?"

She pulled away, meeting his gaze. "I have. And if I remember correctly... the boy that just ran upstairs is my consequence for my rebellion." Tim shook his head.

"But he's a wonderful consequence." She sighed, smiling softly as she rested her hands on his chest.

"He is. I just... I'm worried, Tim. What if the kids get hurt? Or something happens-"

"Then Asher will let us know, and they'll walk home. Okay? Zi, we need to let them live; we can't keep them in plastic bubbles forever. The sooner they learn, the better prepared they'll be for the real world." She sighed, laying her head against his chest.

"You're right, I just-"

"Of course I'm right." She smacked him, looking up into his green eyes.

"Don't start, Timothy, or you'll be sleeping on the sofa." He raised an eyebrow.

"I've never slept on the sofa."

"Then you'll start tonight." He pulled away, holding up his hands as Ziva turned. "You can come down now. All _three_ of you." Slowly, the kids came downstairs, waiting silently. Ziva glanced at her husband before turning back to her children. "You can go tonight._ But_ if anything happens, or you don't want to be there anymore, you come _straight_ home, and you let us know when you leave. _Are we clear_?" All three nodded, before rushing to their parents and wrapping their arms around them in tight hugs.

"_Ken, Ima! Ken, Abba! Toda!"_


	8. Chapter 8

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

******A/N: I think the kids are probably in their... early to late teens so... _between_ 13 and 19. So still kids, and not quite adults yet. ******

******I want the readers to grow with Asher and his family, and to focus on _them_, not on the passing of time. Other than Liron and Zipporah's births, there isn't much of a time reference. ******

******My grandfather used to say that _"Nobody really notices the passage of time until they see it written on their face. And even then, the wrinkles and lines on the skin are what tell the_ story _of the_ life _a person lived- not how much time has passed. Time is irrelevant when you live life with open arms, no matter the circumstances of the world around you."_ ******

******So, in regards to this series, I look at it- and write it- with that in mind. To me, it doesn't matter how old the kids are, but more the experiences they live through and the adventures they take in the world they're growing up in. Their family and friends are more important than what month it is. When time will matter, is when they're old and grey and have hundreds of grandchildren to look after. But until then, Asher, Liron and Zipporah will live life in Ireland with open arms, despite the violence, regardless of time. ******

**Thanks to Guest for reviewing 1; Reader for reviewing 2, 3, 4,5, 6 and 7.**

Zipporah held tight to her brothers' hands as they made their way to the small party. The girl was more excited than Asher- since the party was for the Curling teams- and had gone all out without going over the top. A nice pair of jeans and a dark green lace crop top with cap sleeves were enough to have her father_ and_ her brothers agreeing that she could stay home.

Ziva, of course, had looked her daughter over and decided that the top wasn't that bad; it only showed maybe a little under an inch of her stomach, and could easily be hidden by her jacket. She'd also done her make up- a light smokey eye look that brought out her beautiful McGee emeralds, as Ziva called the McGee greens- with a hint of blush and a light lip gloss, and she'd pulled her hair back in a French braid. Since Liam was going to be there, she wanted to impress him, not that she _needed_ to. But it was nice, being able to dress up, and there was that part of Zipporah that- like her mother- enjoyed looking nice when she had the chance.

By the time they reached the small party, Zipporah was a bundle of excited energy, that immediately rushed off to join Liam once she stepped inside. As Asher had promised his parents, there was no alcohol, no drugs, nothing of any kind. With the way things were, kids in the republic turned to other means of rebellion than drugs and alcohol- dancing, parties, sports. And the dangerous game of Chance.

Asher turned to say something to Liron about Zipporah's acting girly, only to find his brother had slipped away and was currently chatting with Keavy, who'd managed to look very pretty in a knee-length dark red halter dress, her hair down in curls. Slowly, Asher moved out of the way; he managed to find himself in the kitchen, away from the loud music. He tried to relax; something didn't feel right, now that he was here. Something was off, and he didn't like it.

"Hey." He turned, finding Devin behind him, a glass of soda in her hand. His mouth opened and he struggled to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind. Clearly, she- and every other girl at the party- had decided to dress up, most likely to make all the boys lose any sort of function between their brains and their vocal chords. Unlike Keavy, who wore a dress, Devin had chosen a pair of jeans and a simple purple tank top. She'd done her make up like Zippa had, and her hair was tucked behind her ears; she was cute, now that Asher thought of it,_ very_ cute.

How had he not noticed? He'd known her little over three years, how the hell had he not noticed how cute she was?

"... hi." Devin blushed, glancing down at her black ballet flats. "You... you look nice." Her gaze darted up to meet his.

"Thanks." They stood in silence for several minutes, before Asher moved closer. He pecked her quickly on the cheek, before pulling away, blushing. She giggled, looking around. Clearly she wasn't used to parties like this either.

He understood, really, he did. Growing up those first eight years in Israel had been more a lesson on surviving any threat of his grandfather than making friends and going to parties. Always the bookworm, Asher had often had enjoyed the fortune teller in _Jane Eyre_, or danced with Elizabeth Bennett in_ Pride and Prejudice_, or- more often than not- had tea with the dormouse, the March Hare and the Made Hatter whenever he visited_ Wonderland_ with Alice. You didn't have to hide at those kinds of parties, and no one cared about your name.

"I'm _no'... no' v'ry_ good at parties." Devin admitted, studying the melting ice in her soda glass. Asher turned to her. Even with the music, the dancing the food and the games, their friends and the relaxed atmosphere, for the two, it was still strange, to be around other people that weren't their immediate group.

"Neither am I. The only parties I used to attend had... had the Cheshire Cat and the Mad Hatter in attendance, and occasionally the Bennett sisters."

"Me, too." Devin whispered. Despite her extroverted attitude, Devin had grown up with her nose stuffed in a book; it had been the only thing that would give her parents some peace and quiet from her incessant, never-ending talking. Asher turned, hearing the notes of OneRepublic's _Counting Stars_ begin- it was one of his favorite songs- and he turned back to the girl he'd been "not-dating and not-in-a-relationship" with for nearly three years. He took a deep breath, thinking.

"W... do... do you want to dance?" Devin looked around.

"_'ere_? In _th'_ kitchen?" He shrugged.

"Why not?" She thought a moment, biting her lip, before she nodded.

"Sure." She slipped her arms around his neck, feeling his go around her waist, and they slowly fell into step together. Despite the fast pace of the song, the two kept it slow, talking and laughing softly together, oblivious to everyone else in the living room, completely unaware that Zipporah and Liam were sitting outside on the back porch, and that Liron and Keavy were curled up together in a corner, debating which was better- the Norwegian Curling Team's pants, or Michael Jackson's signature moonwalk.


	9. Chapter 9

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Despite the light chill in the air, it was warm enough for Zipporah to remove her jacket. She sat on the swing in the backyard with Liam, enjoying the quiet. For a party celebrating the Curling teams winning their titles, it sure could get noisy. She turned, looking through the open backdoor; she could see her brother and Keavy sitting on the sofa; Asher was nowhere to be seen, but the most likely scenario was that he was with Devin.

"You look... nice." She turned back to him, blushing.

"_Toda_."

"A..._ Al lo davar_." The grin that met him told the boy he'd pronounced it right. Over the last couple years, Zipporah had enjoyed teaching Liam Hebrew, They sat in silence for several minutes, before she shifted, turning to face him.

"So... what do we do now?" Liam shrugged.

"Talk? Dance? I... I _dinna_ know, really. I_ 'aven't_ been _t'_ many parties._ Ye_?" Zipporah shook her head.

"Just birthday parties, but... they've always been small. And... and family dinners. But nothing like this." He nodded, glancing down when Zipporah laced their fingers. A moment passed, before she glanced over her shoulder, probably making sure neither of her brothers were watching, and then leaned over, capturing his mouth in hers. A moment passed, before Liam reciprocated, reaching up and gently cradling her face in his hand. When they broke for air, Liam whispered,

"Are _ye... plannin'_ on_ stayin'_ all _nigh'_?" She shook her head. "_Canna_ we go back _t' yer_ house? I_ jus'_..."

"Don't want to be here?" He nodded. She relaxed. "Good. Because being here for two hour is about all I can take." He laughed, and helped her off the swing, tugging her back into the house to find her brothers and head home.

* * *

Asher looked up from the conversation he and Devin were engaged in to see Liam and Zipporah join them. They'd returned to the kitchen, away from the loud music, and had spent the last two hours talking about various things, from Curling to Irish dance to their favorite movies and music. At one point, he looked up, to see Liam and Zipporah enter the kitchen holding hands. "Hey, Zippa. Having fun?" The girl shrugged, going to her brother and leaning into his back. The boy leaned against table, facing Devin on the other side. She still held tight to Liam's hand, their fingers laced tightly together.

"I want to go home." He straightened, wrapping an arm around his sister's waist and holding her close.

"Me, too." He sighed. "Okay, let's go find Brother and then we can go. You coming, Devin?" The other girl nodded, moving around the table and joining them. It only took them a few minutes to find Liron and Keavy, who had moved out to the backyard. "Hey, Brother, we're gonna go, you two coming?" Liron nodded, getting up. As they left the party, Asher quickly dialed their parents, telling them they'd be home soon.

As they began to walk back home, Devin said, "Someone tried _t'_ recruit me _yest'rday _when I was_ ou' wit'_ I was _ou' wit' Ma_." She shivered, moving closer to Asher, who wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her close.

"Who?" Zipporah asked, glancing around Liam and Asher to meet Devin's gaze. The older girl swallowed.

"_'Twas_ the ARBI- because I am Catholic, and Catholics tend t' look at themselves as members o' the Catholic church of England-"

"They'd recruit you to help keep the republic as a part of Britain." Liron said. Devin nodded.

"So... the IUFI support-"

"The Protestants. The Irish for a United Free Ireland support the Republic breaking away from Britain and joining back with the north to create one free, fully united country without Britain sticking its nose in their business and dictating what they can and cannot do." Asher said; he'd listened to Tim and Ziva talking the night before, heard the fear in their voices. He swallowed. "_Abba_ was right. The Troubles are starting all over again."

* * *

Ziva looked up at the sound of the door opening. "You're back early." Asher shrugged.

"Didn't want to be there anymore. Got boring." He said, as Liron shut the door behind them. After a moment, the kids joined their parents at the kitchen table. Asher slipped into the chair beside Ziva, and Zipporah instantly settled into her father's lap, wrapping her arm around his neck and resting her head on his shoulder. Liron slipped into the chair beside their father, folding his arms on the tabletop. "What were you talking about?" Ziva and Tim shared a glance, unsure of how to respond. After a moment, Tim sighed, taking a sip of his coffee.

"We just spent two hours Skyping with Tony- explaining to him_ why_ he _cannot_ cross the border. He insists he can because of this case he and Bishop are working-" Ziva screwed up her mouth, wrinkling her nose at the mention of the agent who'd taken her place.

"I don't like her. Met her during the conversation, and I don't like her." Tim rolled his eyes, his soft growl a warning.

"_Ziva-"_

"I just _don't like her_. She's... odd."

"And _you're_ probably_ odd_ to _her_. Get over it."

"It's just... Gibbs hired a... puzzle freak... he hates the NSA almost as much as the FBI. Why would he go and hire a puzzle freak if he doesn't like them?" Tim rubbed his forehead.

"Ziva, baby, drop it." She glared at her husband, and the kids laughed softly.

"Wait, why does Tony want to come into Ireland, Abba?" The older man sighed, gently patting his daughter's hip, and she got up, letting her father stand. He poured another cup of coffee and leaned against the counter as Zipporah settled into his seat. He crossed his arms over his chest, thinking.

"Because, Asher, he wants to see us."

"Can't he do that on Skype?" Ziva shook her head.

"Says it's not the same as seeing us in person." His mother replied as the kids shared confused glances.


	10. Chapter 10

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

He reached for a shirt and stopped, feeling someone watching him. Being married to a former Mossad assassin, you tend to pick up little tricks here and there. Slowly, he picked up the shirt and sighed. "What is it, Asher?" The boy swallowed, surprised his father had known it was him. He stayed silent as he slipped into the room and closed the bedroom door halfway; his eyes remained glued on the tattoo on his father's back- the entwined Celtic knot and the Star of David that symbolized his parents' marriage, the same tattoo that hid the majority of the hideous scars that ran the length down his father's back. But all too soon, the tattoo vanished as Tim pulled the shirt on and turned to his son. "Asher?" The boy looked up, meeting his father's gaze. "What do you need?"

The boy bit his lip, thinking. He cleared his throat, taking a seat on his parents' bed. He could hear the shower running in the bathroom, and knew that if he wanted Ziva's opinion, he should wait until she got out of the shower, but it was eating at him too much, and so he'd have to forgo his mother's amount of wisdom. "Um... Devin... she told us last night... when we were walking home that... that they had tried to... to recruit her."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Who?" He knew who the boy meant, but a part of him was hoping to God that he was wrong, and wanted to hear it from his son's mouth before he made any judgements.

"The... the Army for... British Ireland..." Asher whispered, and Tim swallowed thickly. He had a bad feeling he knew where this was going.

"What did she do?" He asked, taking a seat on the bed beside his son and grabbing his shoes. Asher watched his father for several minutes, before,

"She turned them down."

Tim nodded. "She's a smart girl."

"Who's a smart girl?" Both McGee males turned to see Ziva, wrapped in her husband's bathrobe, drying her dark curls with a towel. She glanced from her husband to her oldest son, waiting for an answer. "Well, aren't one of you going to answer me?"

"Devin,_ Ima_." Asher licked his lips. "Someone... someone from the ARBI tried to... to recruit her to... to work for them." Ziva stopped drying her hair, and turned her dark gaze to her son. "She turned them down." His mother nodded slowly, before removing the towel from her hair and dropping it in the hamper. She sighed, placing her hands on her hips.

"You know that Devin's Catholic, don't you, Asher?" The boy nodded, glancing at his father. Tim had mentioned the two groups to Tony, and the agent was looking into any possible leads that would be useful in their case.

"_Ken_." Zive took a deep breath.

"You also know that your father is Protestant, and I'm Jewish."

"So we're... Jewish Protestants?" Asher asked, glancing at his father. Tim sighed, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his hands together slowly.

"Just because I stopped practicing after I returned to the States when I was eighteen, doesn't mean I stopped believing. My beliefs are the same as the Catholics, just on a less rigid scale. And _Ima_ may no longer attend prayers, but that does not mean she doesn't believe, and doesn't practice when she can."

"Shabbat dinner-" Asher said. Ziva nodded.

"The prayers at the synagogue, when I can make it." Asher turned to his father.

"So... so where does that put us?" He asked, fear in his eyes. Tim sighed.

"I don't know." He whispered, shrugging. "Based on the... way things are going... I _should_ side with the IUFI-"

"Because you're Protestant?" Tim nodded, and stood.

"But I won't. I may not have been a soldier, but I've learned that to align yourself with one faction or another brings nothing but suffering in the long run. Whatever dreams they fill your head with is nothing compared to the reality once you start living it. _Ima_ and I both know. Reality is very different from fantasy." Asher glanced between his parents, connecting the dots as Ziva took a seat beside him and rubbed his back.

"Me?" Gently, she reached up, cradling his head.

"I _chose_ to keep you; chose to defy my father and allow the_ one thing_ that could destroy my career in Mossad to continue to grow within my belly. I don't regret it, really, I don't. You are the best thing to happen to me. But because..." She held his face in her hands; tears pricked at her eyes, and she struggled to keep them at bay. "because I chose to keep you, my decision- _mine_\- cost _Savta_ her life, when you were five. It pitted my family against each other," She sighed, thinking. "but given the choice, I would do it all over again. Every moment, every decision, every _little detail_, I would do it all again, if it reached the same result and gave me you."

"My parents tried to pit Sarah and I against each other, when we were growing up." Tim said, as Asher wrapped his arms around his mother's waist and laid his head beneath her chin. "But instead, it ended up being her and I against them. It was safer. And those decisions, I would do over again in a heartbeat, but this..." He sighed. "This is not worth dying over. This is not worth the chaos it would cause, were I to choose a side. It's not worth the pain it would cause my family."

"So..." Asher asked, pulling away and cocking his head to the side. Tim stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

"On this issue, I'm remaining neutral."

"And do am I." Ziva said, meeting her son's gaze. Asher looked between his parents, confused.

"So.. so what do we do, _Abba_?" Tim turned, to find Liron and Zipporah in the doorway. They slipped into the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind them. Their father sighed, taking a deep breath.

"Honestly, sweetheart, I think the best thing for _all three_ of you to do is to remain neutral."


	11. Chapter 11

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Two weeks had passed since the party, since Devin had been approached about being recruited, since Ziva and Tim had informed Tony of what was going on. The house was quiet, save for the muffled explosions and gunfire heard from miles away. The small neighborhood had remained almost virtually untouched since the bombing nearly three years earlier- of which the residents were grateful.

Footsteps rushed down the stairs, and Tim looked up from the current chapter of his novel as Liron came into the kitchen. "Um, _Abba? Ima_? Can... Keavy texted me and... and asked if... if we could meet for coffee? The six of us." His parents shared a glance, before Ziva gave her son a small smile.

"Sure. Have fun. But be careful." Liron gave his mother a bright smile.

"We will, _Ima_." He whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek before doing the same to his father. "I promise!"

* * *

The coffee shop was quiet, tucked away in a secluded corner of Clontarf, almost untouched by the violence. With its small fireplace and leather-upholstered booths, its aluminum circular tables and barstools, it had a very fifties feel, like something out of the movie _Grease,_ as Tony would say. The group sat in a booth in the back corner, near the fireplace, sipping coffee and chatting, but Liron wasn't paying any attention to the conversation. Keavy had yet to show up, but she'd sent him a text that had him worried.

_Talk. Alone._

Once she got there, they could move to a secluded table away from his siblings and their crushes, and discuss whatever they needed to discuss. It worried him, and a wide range of scenarios had been running through his head for the last several minutes; was she sick? Was her dad? Did he lose his job? Was she forced to quit the Curling team? Quit school?

He glanced down at his phone as his ringtone alerted him to a new message.

"What's wrong, Liron? Everything okay?" He looked up, meeting Devin's gaze. She watched him intently, worried. He gave her a small smile, nodding.

"Yeah, just... just worried about Kea-" But her name caught in his throat as someone entered the coffee shop. His gaze quickly flicked to the person before turning back to the message he'd pulled up.

_Here._

He looked up, but didn't see her. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. Or maybe she'd gotten there and then slipped off to the restroom real quick. Just as he was about to text her back, she stopped in front of the table. "Hey." He met her gaze, smiling softly.

"Hey." On instinct, he got to his feet, meeting her lips in a kiss.

"Keavy, sit. There's room for you." Zipporah said, scooting closer to Liam with a giggle as he pulled her onto his lap. Asher narrowed his eyes, but let the action slide, so long as the younger boy kept his hands to himself.

"Thanks, but..." She bit her lip. "Liron, _coul'_ we talk... in... in_ priv'te_?" He glanced at his siblings, before nodding. He got up, following her outside, so they could talk without being overheard.

"What's wrong?" Something in the way she was acting screamed that something had happened, that something wasn't right. Keavy took a deep breath, as if gathering her courage before she spoke. She swallowed thickly, taking his hands and playing with his fingers.

"_Ye... ye_ know_ tha'_ I'm Catholic, _aye_?" He nodded, confused as to why she was bringing it up.

"Of course, I do, why? What does that have to do with this conversation?" She looked up, and he could see the tears in her eyes. Then, without a word, she took his face in her hands and kissed him, sliding her tongue along his lower lip, begging entrance. He granted it, surprised, but perfectly okay with the impromptu make out. Neither noticed his siblings or Liam and Devin watching from the window. Keavy pressed herself against him, wanting to feel as close to him as she possibly could without sex, and slowly, she felt his hands come to rest on her small waist. Several minutes passed, before he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

Back in the shop, Zipporah's mouth dropped in surprise. "I... I thought they were supposed to be talking." Asher rolled his eyes.

"They probably will, Zippa. Eventually." He replied, as Keavy walked his baby brother back against the wall. He watched as she tightened her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss more.

Outside, eventually, she pulled away, taking deep breaths. The tears still slid down her cheeks, but she didn't notice. Taking a deep breath, Liron asked,

"What was that for?" She swallowed.

"We... we're friends,_ righ'_, Liron?" He nodded. "So... so _ye_ won't... won't _ge'_ mad?" He scoffed gently.

"Why would I get mad? You've done nothing wrong." She shook her head, choking on a sob, the tears coming faster now, fresher. Her eyes were red, and the ponytail she wore her long blonde hair in was coming loose, but she didn't notice. She just rested her forehead to his. Fresh sobs worked their way softly from her throat, and she shook her head. "Keavy, talk to me. What's wrong? You're scaring me."

She pulled away, taking a deep breath. He reached up to catch her hands, but she pulled away, turning from him as she wiped at her nose. He watched her, suddenly concerned, and pushed himself away from the wall. "Keavy,_ please_. _Talk_ to me. I'm your boyfriend, that's why I'm here." Neither noticed his slip, but the others in the coffee shop, watching from the window, near the door, heard it, and were forced to contain their shock. "What's wrong?"

_"I messed up, Liron!"_ She cried, turning back to him.

"Well, it can't be that bad. I'm sure it's fixable." She shook her head, backing up another step as he moved towards her.

_"No, 'tis no'!"_ She replied, sniffling.

_"Keavy, just tell me! It can't possibly be that bad!" _

_"Aye, it 'tis!"_ She took a deep breath, struggling to breathe as the words flew from her lips. _"I joined the ARBI!"_


	12. Chapter 12

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to puppypants and silvermoon217 for reviewing 8; Reader for reviewing 8, 9, 10 and 11.**

Liron had to have heard wrong. She... she didn't really just say that... that she...

"I... I'm sorry, you... you _what_?" She moved away, but he grabbed her arm, forcing her to meet his gaze. _"What do you mean you joined the ARBI?"_

She choked on a sob, brushing her bangs off her forehead. It was then that Asher rushed outside, the others following. If need be, he'd forcefully separate his brother and Keavy. Liron- like his siblings- all had their father's level-headed thinking, but when it came to someone they loved; they- like both their parents- could be possessive when it came to people they loved, and jealousy was a concept that came slowly to all of them. "Hey! Hey, what's going on?" Asher took one look at Keavy's red eyes and turned on his brother, grabbing the front of his shirt. "What the hell did you do to her, Brother?" He demanded, walking the younger boy back toward the wall.

"_I didn't do anything, Asher! It's Keavy_-"

"You_ know_ what_ Abba_ says about laying a hand on_ anyone_!"

"_It wasn't Liron, Asher_!" Keavy cried, and Devin rushed to her, holding the younger girl close as Zipporah wedged herself between her brothers.

_"Stop it, that's enough! Both of you! Dai! Asher, Liron! I said stop! I'll call Ima if I have to!"_ Asher instantly backed up, acting like a puppy caught going through the trash. If anyone scared the boy- truly, absolutely scared him- it was Ziva. He'd spent the first eight years of his life in Israel with his mother; yes, Ziva was loving and attentive and gentle and caring, like any mother was, but there was a side to his mother that very few people saw; that Asher had only seen once or twice in his young life. It was the side of his mother that had been shaped and molded by Mossad, by her father's subtle sculpting. Even though she'd been on the fringes, he'd still been able to morph and shape Asher's mother into some semblance of what he'd desired- the cold-blooded killer, the heartless assassin. And that... that scared the boy to no end. No one- no one- wanted to see that side of Ziva. Enemy or not, to see that side of Ziva was like looking into the pits of Hell.

His mother may have taken his father's name, may have accepted and now wore his ring, may have carried and bore his children; even though she let go of the badge, left NCIS and everything behind, to run off to Ireland on a whim with his father, to settle down and raise her family in the hills near the coast of this beautiful country, there was _still_ a side to the former Mossad officer, the former NCIS Agent, that no one wanted to see. Just because you left Mossad, didn't mean the killing instinct didn't leave you.

It was the Mossad side of Ziva that scared Asher. She'd once killed someone with a_ credit card_, after all.

He immediately shook his head, watching as Zipporah pulled out her phone and pulled up the number for the house. "No! Zippa, don't!" She looked up at her brother. _"Don't call Ima_!"

"You gonna play nice then, Brother?" Asher nodded. She turned to Liron, who also nodded.

"_Ken_, Zippa, we _promise,_ just... just _don't_ call_ Ima_!" His baby sister narrowed her gaze, not trusting him; both boys watched as her thumb pressed the call button, and they listened as the phone rang for several minutes, before their mother's voice came on the other end of the line.

"McGee residence." Clearly their mother hadn't bothered to look at the caller ID- most likely she'd either been working or baking.

"_Shalom, Ima_."

"Oh boy. What happened? Zipporaleh, talk to me." They could all hear the hint of worry in her voice. "Zipporah-" Her daughter covered the phone, glancing between her brothers.

"You _promise_ you'll play nice? Or I tell _Ima right now_." Her brothers shared a glance, before nodding. She shook her head, holding out her pinkie. Sighing, they both pinkie swore, and Zipporah removed her hand from the phone.

"Zipporah, what's going on? Do _Abba_ or I need to come down-"

"No, _Ima_. I just wanted to ask if it was okay if we all went to the beach. And then we'll walk home after. I promise." Their mother sighed; Ziva knew that her daughter hadn't given her the whole story, but she could easily get the rest out of the child when she got home.

"You_ know_ how I feel about lying, Zipporaleh." The girl swallowed, glancing at Keavy.

"I know._ Abba_ can't lie to save his life, and Asher can't lie because_ Abba_ can't."

"_Ken_, your father has always sucked at lying." Ziva chuckled softly. "Anything else?" Zipporah glanced at her brothers, but the two remained quiet.

"No. Just wanted to ask if we could go to the beach."

"_Ken_, you may. But be home before-"

"Before dark or if anything suspicious happens, we know_, Ima_." Ziva nodded, sighing softly as Tim pressed a kiss to her head as he passed by her.

"Okay. Have fun." She glanced at Keavy as she spoke, the words leaving a sour taste in her mouth.

"We will, _Ima_." Once she ended the call, Zipporah slipped her phone back into her pocket and turned to the others, before moving past the small group. "So, come on._ Ima_ said we could go to the beach. Besides, we can talk in private without being overheard." Slowly, the others followed, rushing to keep up with the petite dancer.

* * *

The waves crashed on the shore, but none of them noticed. They sat on the rocks at the far end of the beach, near where the docks were. The siblings had discovered this little hideaway not long after they'd moved to Ireland with their parents, and often, the three came here when they wanted to be alone, or enjoy the quiet. It was their special place, their _Secret Garden_, as Asher called it; just as the cottage in Clontarf was their_ Green Gables_.

"I don't understand, how do you join the ARBI? How exactly do you get sucked into it like that? Or let yourself get _sucked in_?" Liron sat on the old blanket in the sand, drawing patterns with a small twig of driftwood he'd found. Not long after finding this spot, the kids had brought old blankets their parents had wrapped things in during the move, brought old pillows and hidden them in the small area, away from the water. Keavy sipped her tea, sniffling. They'd all gotten coffee to go, and now sat warming their hands against the slight chill coming of the sea air.

"They _'ave_ sections." Devin said, sitting beside the younger girl. Asher leaned against one of the rocks, watching the water, lost in thought. Liam was sitting back against one of the rocks on a blanket, Zipporah in his lap, curled into his chest, head resting under his chin. "Both groups 'ave youth sections, an' then ye 'ave th' main faction tha's run by th' adults." She turned to Keavy. "I'ma guessin' yer in th'... youth section?"

Keavy nodded, tears in her eyes.

"But what I'm not understanding is_ how_ you could let yourself become a _part of it_." Liron said, meeting Keavy's gaze. She sniffled, swallowing.

"I... I_ 'ave_ a... cousin..._ tha'_ came down_ las'_ week_ t'_ visit. She's a.. a member_ o' th'_..." She sniffled. "o' th' ARBI. She's me favorite cousin; she... _she said she wasn't serious in it... tha'... 'twas jus' a... an after-school activity..."_ She broke down then, and Devin pulled her close.

"Sounds like you were tricked." Asher said, pushing himself away from the rocks. A moment passed, before he looked at each of the others. "Come on, let's go home."

"Why?" Liron asked.

"So we can tell_ Ima_ and _Abba_ what's going on."

"We can't tell them, Brother!" Zipporah cried, climbing to her feet. Asher turned back to her.

"_We have no choice, Zippa_!" He turned back, going to Keavy. "_Ima_ and _Abba_ have a friend that works with NCIS. They're working on... something that has to do with smuggling weapons into Ireland. We'll tell Tony. He can help."


	13. Chapter 13

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

"I... I _can't believe_ that's Asher... my God... he _looks_ like you, Tim..."

"Can we get back to the matter at hand, Tony?" The Senior agent waved the question away, too in shock that Asher was standing at the table. He drank in the sight of Tim and Ziva's oldest son- the last time he'd seen Asher, the boy had been a child, and now, he was several few inches shorter than his father.

"He... he looks like you... but... but I_ can't believe_ it..."

"Um, Tony, can... can we..." Asher perked up upon seeing Bishop pop into the frame. "Oh, who's this?" Tim sighed, realizing they wouldn't be getting back to the matter at hand any time soon- at least not until introductions were made.

"Bishop, this is my son, Asher; Asher, this is Tony's new partner, Ellie Bishop."

"The one who took _Ima_'s place?" Asher asked, meeting his father's gaze.

"She is not replacing me." Ziva snapped from her place at the other end of the counter. "Now can we_ please_, get back to what's important here?"

"Sure." Tony replied. "Oh, but before we do- _Pictures! I want pictures, Ziva! You hear me, McGee? I want pictures! I'm not liking this... growing up gap!"_ Tim rolled his eyes.

"If we promise to send you copies, will you drop it?" The other man nodded. "Thank you. Now, what do you suggest we do? How do we handle this?" Keavy sat at the table, staring at the hardwood, silent. She'd recounted what she'd told Asher and the others, and the adults had immediately jumped into possible plans of action. Tony had told Bishop to call Gibbs and Vance, and fill them in. The other two men were in MTAC, waiting for Tony and Tim to join in.

"We handle this like any other case, DiNozzo." Gibbs said, appearing in the upper corner of Tim's computer screen. "Good to see you again, Tim, Ziver. Liron."

"Asher." The boy replied, and Gibbs started, surprised, but he kept quiet. Asher wasn't surprised; most people thought he and Liron were twins, they looked so much alike. "Good to see you too, Mr. Gibbs." He smiled softly, before moving aside and letting his mother take a seat beside his father.

"So what do you suggest, Gibbs? Director Vance?" Ziva asked, taking Tim's hand. The two men shared a look, before turning back to the couple.

"Is the girl there?" Ziva nodded at her former boss, glancing at Keavy, who slowly got up and joined the couple. Ziva laid a hand on the girl's back.

"Go ahead, Keavy, tell them what you told us."

"Oh, um Boss, Director Vance, this is Keavy Gallagher." Bishop said, and Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"I got it, Bishop." He replied.

"She's Liron's girlfriend." Tony's eyebrows rose at Asher's statement. He grinned.

"_Girlfriend_?"

"She's _not_ my girlfriend. It was a slip, we're... just... getting to know each other." Liron said, coming into the kitchen. He grabbed a mug and went to the fix a cup of coffee, before slipping up the stairs and into his room, slamming his door as he went. Ziva sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Asher, go-" The older boy nodded, following his brother. Zipporah, Liam and Devin had been talking silently in the living room, and followed, but Tim stopped them.

"No. You all stay." After a moment, Zipporah nodded, and the three moved to perch on the stairs, where Jethro lay, watching everyone.

Ziva glanced towards her sons, and sighed. "Right. My children are 'not in relationships, and are not dating'- sorry, I forgot to add that." She shared a glance with her husband, squeezing Keavy's shoulder.

"Good." They all turned to Gibbs. "Relationships only get you into trouble, and that leads to marriage, and from then on you're screwed."

_"Hey!"_ The other kids laughed softly as the former agents glared at Gibbs; Keavy was even able to crack a smile. The girl was distraught; she'd been terrified of how Tim and Ziva had reacted, but all either had said was that they weren't going to hold it against her, and since she clearly didn't want to be in it, they would do all they could to help her.

"Besides you two." Gibbs glanced at the girl, before asking, "Can you leave us? Let me talk to Keavy alone."

* * *

Asher sighed. Liron was sitting on his bed, staring into his coffee. A moment passed, before he slipped into the bedroom. "Brother? You want to talk?" Liron didn't say anything. Quickly, Asher shut the door, leaning back against the door. He watched his little brother, before going to the bed and taking a seat beside him. Gently, he bumped Liron's shoulder with his own, grinning. The younger boy didn't say anything. "Come on, Brother. Talk to me. You know you can tell me anything. And better me than Zippa, cause you know all she'll do is-"

"I don't want to talk, Asher. Okay?" Liron replied, not looking up from his coffee. The older boy sighed; pulling his legs beneath him. Liron glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "I said I don't want to talk. Can you go, please?" Asher shook his head.

"_Ima_ sent me up to check on you."

"Well, now you can go downstairs now and tell_ Ima_ that you've checked on me. Now go."

"I can't."

"_Ken_, you can, you just don't _want_ to." Asher studied his younger brother, before reaching over and ruffling his hair. Ever since Liron was a baby, Asher had ruffled his hair. He'd always been gentle with his siblings after they were born, but as soon as they were able to sit up and crawl, he would often follow them around and ruffle their hair- since he and his siblings had all been born with thick, dark curls, their mother's dark curls- it wasn't uncommon for Tim to ruffle his children's hair or for Ziva to run her fingers through it. Call it family habit.

"No, I can't. Not until we talk." He replied, reaching out and running his fingers softly through his brother's hair. The boy swatted him away, and then set his cup down, getting up. He yanked his brother to his feet, pulling him towards the door.

"_I don't want to talk_! _Now get out_!" Downstairs, everyone turned towards the stairs as Liron raised his voice and slammed the door in his brother's face.


	14. Chapter 14

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Now for a little brother time...**

A soft knock signaled someone at the door. A moment passed, before Asher poked his head in. Dinner had been quiet; after explaining everything to Gibbs and Tony, Tim and Ziva had walked the other three home. After dinner, Liron had fled upstairs, leaving his siblings downstairs with his parents. Tim and Ziva had shared a glance, but left the boy alone. He clearly wasn't in the mood to talk. Two hours later, when Liron still hadn't come downstairs, Asher headed up, to make sure his brother was still alive.

"Liron? You okay?" Asher poked his head in, studying his brother. The boy sat in the bed, pillow in his lap. A moment passed in silence before the boy spoke.

"What do you want?" Slowly, Asher slipped into the room and shut the door, leaning against it, two cups of coffee in his hands.

"I just want to talk." It was then that the boy looked up.

"Can't you just leave me alone?" Asher screwed up his mouth, thinking.

"Nope. Can't. Sorry." He moved away from the door and sauntered over to the bed, sitting beside his brother. "Your my brother, it's my job to _not_ leave you alone." He held out the second cup and waited. Slowly, Liron accepted the drink with a whispered thank you.

"_Ima_ send you up here?" The older boy shook his head, sipping his coffee.

"No. Amazingly, I decided to come up here myself." Liron rolled his eyes.

"You must be brilliant then." Asher snorted with a shake of his head.

"No. _Abba_'s the brilliant one, remember? _Ima_'s the scary one." Liron chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. They settled into silence again, and Asher looked around. Despite the fact that the cottage looked small, it was far from it. All the rooms in the house were good sized, especially the bedrooms. There was more space in each bedroom than most would think, but because everyone in the family was a reader, bookshelves took up the space, giving each room a cozy feel.

Much like his room, his brother had bookcases- some built-in, some not- a small reading nook in the corner, and a corner where his desk was situated, facing the window. But that was where the similarities ended. While Asher had painted his room a pretty dusted emerald green and had framed posters of novel covers- _The Great Gatsby, For Whom the Bell Tolls, Rebecca_ and the like- and quotes on his walls, Liron was the opposite.

His brother's favorite color was heather grey, and he'd painted the walls of his room that color. He and Zipporah had done fairly well in the Irish dance, and so he did have a small shelf for the various awards they'd won, as well a photograph he'd taken the first week they were in Ireland, of the River Nore, with Kilkenny Castle, from the bridge leading to the castle. To the surprise of everyone, Liron was quite skilled with a camera- Zipporah had joked that he could be a photojournalist for National Geographic. But the one thing the brothers did share was a love of music.

Taking a deep breath, Asher got up, going to the stereo and looking through the music his brother had. Liron wasn't as into Queen or the older music than Asher, but he did enjoy some of the older singer- but the majority of his music was from the nineties and early two-thousands. But the boy's absolute favorite band was Nickelback. He had all the band's cds, and played them a lot- especially when he was upset. Which was what Asher found odd- not a hint of Nickelback was playing at that moment.

Silently, the older boy slipped a cd out of a case, into the player, turned on the stereo, and then returned to sit by his brother. Instantly, Chad Kroeger began weaving a story with a set of drums, some guitars and that unique voice of his. The older boy turned back to his brother.

"So." Liron glanced up at him, shrugging. "Come on, Brother, talk to me. I won't say anything to Ima and Abba if you don't want me to. I won't even tell Zippa, and you know how she is with secrets; doesn't keep them unless it benefits her in some way." The boy stayed quiet. Asher gently bumped his shoulder against his brother's, grinning. But the famous, quick McGee grin soon faded when he realized what the problem was. "This is about Keavy, isn't it?"

A nod. "Yeah."

He sighed, pulling his legs up under him. Liron had come downstairs midway through Gibbs' questioning of the girl, and when the agent finished, he'd asked to talk to her. They'd stepped outside, talking quietly to each other on the back porch step, but soon, raised voices had penetrated the kitchen. Liron had then stormed into the kitchen and gone upstairs, slamming his bedroom door. Something had shattered, but no one went up to check; the entire family knew better than to confront the youngest McGee boy when he lost his temper. He had Ziva's violent streak- but tended to direct it more at objects than people; something his mother never quite grasped. Keavy had come in moments later, tears streaming down her cheeks, and immediately gone to Ziva. She and Tim had walked the other kids home, returning in time for dinner. Asher chuckled, as he thought of how the only reason his brother had eaten was because_ Ima_ threatened to tie him to a chair and force feed him- a variant on the torture techniques she'd learned during her time in Mossad.

"I'm sorry, Brother. I know you really liked her." Liron looked up at him, tears in his eyes.

"I... I still do." He whispered, sniffling.

"Well, what did-" Asher swallowed. "What did she say?"

His brother took a deep breath. "She... she compared herself to _Ima_..."

_"I don't wanna be in it. I 'ave no choice." _

_"Ima and Abba and... and Tony and Mr. Gibbs... they can help." _

_"An' wha' if they can't? Wha' if I kill someone? I'm no' yer Ma, Liron. I'm no' as cold as her, I canna kill someone!"_

_"Ima isn't cold, Keavy. Every life she took- she grieves for. Blames herself for."_

Asher let him talk, listening silently. When his brother's hands began to shake, he removed the cup and set it on the nightstand. Liron talked of how she'd _begged_ him to understand that because she was now a part of this, she had no choice but to do as they asked. She couldn't back out; and if her actions, her participation in this... this war... caused death, then so be it, but it would be her hands dipped in innocent blood, not his.

"She asked me if we could... could still..."

_"I los' Ma... I canna lose ye too, Liron. Please..."_

Asher watched his brother yank his hand away from whatever he was thinking of, and after a moment, he gently reached out, taking the younger boy's hand and stroking the back of it, like Abba would do to calm them down.

_"Don't you know what happens when you pick sides, Keavy? When you pick a side, it means you break contact. With everyone that isn't on that side! So me, Ima, Abba, Asher... Zippi..."_

_"But yer're neutral. It should not count! I should still..."_

Liron swallowed. "She kissed me... as if it could... as if it could erase everything from the last few weeks or so. As if it didn't mean that she's in the ARBI... like she thought we could go back to before all this..."

Asher squeezed his brother's hand, silent.

_"Please. Please, Liron. I jus'.. I jus' want ev'rything back... please... Liron, I love you."_

He took a shaky breath. "She... she told me... that _she loved me_..." Asher stared, eyes wide. "And I... _I broke her heart... I told her to... to enjoy Hell and walked away... I didn't mean it, Brother... I... I was angry... I swear I didn't mean it..."_ He broke down then, and Asher looked up, finding his parents in the doorway, listening. After a moment, Ziva joined her sons on the bed, and Asher gently pushed him brother into her arms. Ziva held her son close, tears in her own eyes.


	15. Chapter 15

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 12, 13 and 14.**

"How can Keavy say she loves our son? _She's a child_!" The former Mossad officer balled up her blouse and threw it in the hamper before unhooking her bra and pulling on her tank top. Tim finished brushing his teeth and came back into the bedroom, watching as his wife shimmied out of her jeans and rummaged around her husband's drawer, before pulling out a pair of his plaid boxers.

"Ziva-"

"They're _teenagers_, they don't know the _first_ thing about love." Tim sighed.

"Zi-"

"There's no way- _no way_\- two teenagers can_ possibly_ know what love is-" He went to her, grabbing her wrist.

"Ziva, we fell in love as teenagers, remember? Or have you forgotten?" She sighed, reaching up to take his face in her hands.

"I'm sorry, I... I know. I just..." She leaned into his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. Tim pressed a kiss to her head, holding her close.

* * *

A month had passed since Keavy had told Gibbs how she'd been recruited for the ARBI. In that time, Tony and Bishop had managed to bust a small arms dealer who was sending weapons to the enemy fractions in Ireland, but the man refused to give up any names. Liron and Keavy avoided each other, and she wasn't mentioned. It was like she didn't exist.

But Liron thought of her constantly.

Suddenly, everything had lost its sheen, the silver-linings got sharper and deadlier, and he felt as though he couldn't trust anyone, besides his family. The boy had fallen hard for the petite blonde, though he'd never admit it. But his family could see how hard he'd fallen for the girl, how much her absence affected him. In the last month, he had withdrawn into himself, and only ever spoke to Asher anymore.

So it was one evening after dinner, after they'd all gone to bed, that Liron found himself laying on bed, staring at the ceiling. Nickelback was playing on the stereo, low so it wouldn't wake his parents. He took a shaky breath, reaching up to swipe at the tears on his cheeks. He'd been wrong- so wrong. His own temper had most likely cost him his heart. He took another deep breath, hearing the opening chords of_ If Today Was Your Last Day_, followed quickly by Chad Kroeger's rough sound. Liron knew the song well, it was on his IPod, in his favorites list. After a moment, he turned to his nightstand; sitting on it was a photograph of him and Keavy after the Curling tournaments, not long after Belgrove had won. He had his arm around her shoulders, and she'd wrapped her arms around his waist. She was grinning at the camera, and his green eyes were focused on the camera as well, even though his lips were pressed against her head.

_"My best friend gave me the best advice; he said 'each day's a gift and not a given right. Leave no stone unturned, leave your fears behind and try to take the path less traveled by. That first step you take is the longest stride.'"_ He sat up, picking up the photograph and studying it. Tears slid down his cheeks, and dropped onto the photograph, obscuring their faces as he studied it. They'd been so happy, so...

So in love.

No, he didn't believe in love. Love was an irrational feeling. It wasn't worth losing your heart over.

And yet-

And yet his parents were deeply in love. They'd had three children, created out of wild abandon and passionate love, and over the last several years, had fiercely been on each others' six, with everything. Sure, Tim and Ziva had had their share of fights, of yelling and screaming matches, of the occasional violent outbursts, but in the end, they'd always been there for each other when the day ended, holding the other up when needed. Their marriage was strong, passionate, the kind of marriage Liron hoped to have someday.

He glanced at the clock._ "'Against the grain should be a way of life; what's worth the prize is always worth the fight. Every second counts 'cause there's no second try. So live like you'll never live it twice; don't take the free ride in your own life.'"_ It was a little after three in the morning. A moment passed, before he took a deep breath and got up. The house was quiet; though the sounds of gunfire could be heard in the distance. Slowly, he went to his closet.

_"'If today was your last day and tomorrow was too late, could you say goodbye to yesterday? Would you live each moment like your last?'_" He quickly grabbed a few things from his drawers and out of his closet, folding them and placing them into his duffel bag. _"'Leave old pictures in the past, donate every dime you have? Would you call old friends you never see? Reminisce old memories, would you forgive your enemies?'"_

Quickly, he grabbed a couple notebooks and a few pens, stuffing them into the pockets of his bag. He turned back to his desk, debating about his laptop, but after a moment, he decided to take it. He quickly, silently, got dressed, and grabbed his phone, stuffing it into the pocket of his jacket. As he turned to go, he stopped, spotting the photograph he kept on his bookshelf. Taken in Kinvara four months earlier, at Siobhan's house, it showed his parents, sitting on the back step, with Asher, he and Zipporah around them. Zipporah was perched in their father's lap, and he was curled into his mother's side; Asher was sitting behind them, between the pair, leaning against his father's other side. They were all grinning and relaxed, during their visit to Siobhan and Patrick.

He swallowed. "_'Would you find that one you're dreamin' of? Swear up and down to God above that you finally fall in love, if today was you last day?'"_ There was no way he could do this, that he could follow through with what he'd been going to do. He'd be breaking God knew how many people's trust in him- his parents would be disappointed, if they didn't disown him outright. "'If today was your last day, would you make your mark by mending a broken heart?'"

He turned back to the photograph on his nightstand. After picking it up, he studied it. "I never meant to..." He looked up at the photograph of his family, and then set the one of him and Keavy beside it. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, but I have to do this..." Then, he took out the letter he'd written after getting everything together, and swallowed. Silently, he slipped out of the room, going to his sister's first.

Zipporah was sleeping soundly, holding tight to Mr. Bunny Rabbit, unaware that she would most likely never see her older brother again. He studied her, trying to commit every feature to detail, and then set the small note he'd written on her nightstand, before removing the photograph taken of them and Asher at the beach that first year in Ireland out from where it'd been wedged in the frame beside one of them and their friends before a competition. He tucked it into his pocket, before taking a seat beside her on the bed and gently brushing her hair out of her face._ "'You know it's never too late to shoot for the stars, regardless of who you are. So do whatever it takes 'cause you can't rewind a moment in this life. Let nothin' stand in your way 'cause the hands of time are never on your side.'"_

"I'm sorry for all the fights we got into and all the bad things I ever said to you. I love you, Zippi. You're my baby sister." He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "I love you, Sister." Then, he got up, slipping silently out of the room. _"'If today was your last day and tomorrow was too late, could you say goodbye to yesterday?'"_

He made his way to Asher's room, poking his head in before slipping inside and shutting the door softly beside hi. "I... I'm taking your advice, Asher. I _have_ to talk to Keavy, but she won't talk to me whenever I try to..." He set the note he'd written for his brother on the nightstand and sat beside the older boy. "But that... that means I'm not gonna be here anymore. At least for a while... maybe someday I can come home... if _Ima_ and _Abba_ let me." He then did as he'd done to Zipporah and pressed a kiss to Asher's cheek. "I love you, Brother."

He had to force himself to slip into his parents' room when he slipped out of Asher's. Something about telling them goodbye clenched harder at his heart, and forced himself to choke down a sob. _"Would you live each moment like your last? Leave old pictures in the past, donate every dime you have? Would you call old friends you never see? Reminisce old memories, would you forgive your enemies? Would you find that one you're dreamin' of? Swear up and down to God above that you finally fall in love, if today was your last day.'"_

His parents were sound asleep; and after a moment, he went to Tim. "I _love you_, _Abba. So much_." He sniffled. "You took_ Ima_ and Brother in when you didn't even remember them, and made a family. I wish I could be strong like you, and stand up for what I believe in... but I'm not..." He bit his lip. His father was strong, brave, everything Liron wished he could be. "But I'm going to fix things with Keavy. And I'm so sorry." He pressed a kiss to his father's cheek, before turning to Ziva. His mother was sprawled sound asleep on his father's chest, her long dark hair spread out around her.

_God, she's beautiful, like Zippi._ He took a deep breath. "I'm gonna go find Keavy, _Ima_. I have to... I need to..." He sniffled. "I... love her, _Ima_. And I... I don't want to lose her... and it's taken me until just now to... to realize it." He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "_Toda_, for everything,_ Ima_. _I love you_."

He slipped out of the room and downstairs, setting the last letter on the table before heading for the door. He stopped when he heard soft whimpering, and turned, to see Jethro sitting behind him. A moment passed, before he held a finger to his lips, asking the dog to be quiet, but instead, the German Shepard woofed softly. "Shh! _No, Jet_!" A moment passed, before he dropped his bag and knelt down. Instantly, the dog went to him, laying his head on the boy's shoulder.

"I'd take you with me, Jet, but I can't. And I have to go. I have to fix what I did to Keavy." He buried his face in the dog's fur. "I don't know... if I'll ever see you again, Jet. I may not." He sniffled. "I'm so sorry. Take care of everyone for me. I love you." Slowly, Liron stood, grabbing his bag, unlocking the door and pulling it open. He slipped out the door, turning back to the dog. "Stay, Jet. _Stay_."

As the door closed behind him and he rushed from the house, the song on the cd ended and the player shut off, and Jethro lay in front of the door, whimpering.


	16. Chapter 16

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

He took a deep breath, reaching up to knock on the door. Even though Keavy lived only a few houses down from him, he had to do this before he backed out. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't make it right. Several minutes passed, before he knocked again, louder this time, and then waited. And then, several minutes later, the door opened.

"Ah..._ Liron_?" She glanced behind her before stepping out onto the front step, shutting the door softly behind her. "Wh... _'tis..._ nearly five in _th' mornin'_..." He swallowed. She was in a pair of polka dot pajama bottoms and a plaid button up pajama top, her blonde hair a tangled mess. "_Wha'_ are _ye doin' 'ere_?" The boy stayed quiet, thinking.

"We need to talk." Her gaze narrowed.

"Oh,_ now ye_ decide_ t'_ talk, a month _lat'r. No' las'_ _month_, _no' th'_ _day_ I told _ye_, now. A _month lat_-" But she was cut off when his mouth landed on hers. Slowly, she reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck. He pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her waist and holding her to him. She tightened her grasp on his neck, deepening the kiss for several minutes. When she finally broke the kiss, she looked into his eyes, whispering, "_Wha'_ are _ye doin' 'ere_, Liron?" He swallowed, taking her hands.

"I... I love you, Keavy. And I... I'm sorry, for how I acted that day, I just..." He swallowed. "I don't want to lose you." She pulled away, backing up towards the door. "Please, Keavy."

"_Ye_ hurt me, Liron. If_ ye_... if _ye really mean it_... then prove it. Prove _ye_ won't hurt me again. Prove _ye_ really _wanna_ be _wit'_ me." The boy dropped his bag on the ground at their feet. He kicked the bag gently, meeting her gaze, hands in his jacket pockets. She glanced down at the bag.

"I already left home for you, what more do you want?" She searched his gaze, seeing the pain his leaving his family behind was causing, before going to him and wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him softly, before laying her head on his chest.

* * *

She sat up, struggling to breathe. A moment passed, before she turned, checking the time. Seven in the morning; Tim was taking a shower, and the kids were still asleep- it being Spring Break, after all. As she raked a hand through her dark curls, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Slowly, she climbed out of bed, slipping out of the bedroom and going downstairs to start the coffee. She passed by the kitchen table, and stopped, turning around. Something was laying on the kitchen table, addressed to her and Tim. She quickly snatched it up, pulling out a letter. Her dark eyes quickly scanned the short letter, her heart dropping into her toes.

_"Tim! Timothy!"_

She rushed back upstairs, letter tight in her grasp. She didn't notice Asher and Zipporah come out of their rooms, still half-asleep. She pushed the bedroom door open to find her husband pulling on a shirt. "Zi, what is it?" She shook her head, unable to say anything for the tears choking her throat. Instead, she shoved the letter under his nose, and he took it, his green eyes scanning it softly. Then, without a word, he pushed it back into Ziva's hands and rushed from the room, heading to his youngest son's.

"_Abba_, what's wrong?" Zipporah glanced at her brother, before turning to Ziva, but her mother was too busy struggling not to cry to answer. Asher rushed after his father, stopping in the doorway. His brother's bed looked as if it hadn't been slept in, and his laptop and dance bag were gone; Tim had checked his closet and the dresser drawers. The former agent's gaze landed on the two framed photographs sitting on the dresser- one taken at Siobhan's house a few months ago, and one taken the day Belgrove won the Curling tournaments. He picked up the photographs, connecting the dots.

"_Abba_?" Asher's soft whisper seemed to snap Tim out of his study, and he turned to his oldest. He shook his head; Asher moved aside as Tim left the room, only to find Ziva sitting cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the hallway, Jethro laying beside her. She had her arms around the dog's neck, and had buried her face in the German Shepard's fur, sobbing. Silently, Tim went to his wife, helping her to her feet. Ziva wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest. Asher watched his parents, not noticing as Zipporah picked something off the floor. She choked on a sob, causing Asher to turn. "What's that?"

He joined her, reading the short letter their brother had left them over her shoulder.

_Abba and Ima,_

_I know that you'll probably be really upset, probably angry, when you wake up tomorrow and find that I'm gone, and for that, I'm so sorry. But I can't do this anymore. Abba told me once that when it comes to the people we love, making a choice can be the hardest decision of all. I know that Ima made it when she had Brother, and that Abba made it when he had to leave Israel, and that you both had to when you resigned from NCIS, when we moved to Ireland._

_Now it's my turn. I can't keep doing this anymore. It's my fault; I refused to listen when Keavy tried to explain, and I blamed her instead of getting all the information, coming to my own conclusions on limited information instead of getting all the evidence. Since you were both federal agents, I'd learn to get all the facts before drawing conclusions, but no. I was stupid and judged when I should have listened, and now I have to make it right._

_I... I love Keavy, and... and I have to make it right. I have to apologize. So I... I'm leaving, to talk to her, to be with her, because I don't want to live without her. I want to be with her, and I know that if I choose, it means I have to... to break all ties and leave everyone behind... and I'm prepared to. I hope you both can forgive me. I never meant to hurt anyone. I love you both, I love Brother and Zippi, and... and I'll miss you. _

_Maybe one day, after all this is over, I can come home, but not right now. I love you all, so much. _

_Love, _

_Liron_

Zipporah curled into her brother's embrace, sobbing, and he held his baby sister, struggling to keep his own tears from falling.


	17. Chapter 17

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Ziva had immediately called Tony and Gibbs, and she and Tim had spent the last two hours filling them in on the new developments. Deciding to leave their parents alone to work out the details of the new development, Asher and Zipporah had silently gotten dressed, asked Tim if they could go to the beach with Liam and Devin, and when allowed, they fled, picking up Devin and Liam and heading for coffee before going to the beach. "Wait, so... explain it _t'_ me again. Liron _ran away_,_ t'_ be _wit' Keavy?"_

Asher nodded; they'd settled at their spot near the docks, pulling out the pillows and blankets and settling down; Liam and Devin listened in stunned silence as Asher and Zipporah explained the events that had transpired that morning in the McGee household. "Why?" Liam asked. Zipporah shrugged as she continued her pacing.

"He... he said that... he loves her and... that he wants to be with her and... and that he hopes he can come home one day..." She wiped at her nose, and crossed her arms over her chest again. "He can come home now, if he would just stop _being stupid_-"

"He's not stupid, Zippa, he's in love with her." Asher whispered, from his perch on the rock behind her. Devin sat on pillow in the sand, drawing pictures with her finger. Liam was sitting on a rock next to her, hands wrapped around his iced coffee. The ocean breeze was chilled on their backs and faces, but none of the kids noticed. Zipporah continued to pace, her messy French braid falling out and strands sticking to her neck. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she was shaking.

"_He's our brother, Asher! He ran away to be with a girl we thought was our friend_!" Zipporah screamed, turning on her oldest brother.

"Keavy's still our friend, Zippa. Just because she's part of the ARBI doesn't mean she's not our friend." He replied, sipping his coffee.

"And Brother?" She demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. "Because he's with her does that mean he's... he's one of them now? A... a domestic terrorist?" Asher glanced up at her, thinking. He sighed.

"If he is, so what? It's his choice." She shook her head, glancing at the other two.

"No, it's not. He's our... _he's our brother_..." Asher sighed, climbing off the rock and going to his sister.

"Zippa, the ARBI aren't so much terrorists as they are... rabble-rousers. They set off a few bombs, fire a few guns, hand out a few pamphlets, but ultimately, they're fighting what they think is right, and someday, they'll learn to solve their problems in a courtroom instead on the street."

"_They kill people, Asher! Liron's joined a group that kills people_!"

"So does the IUFI, Zippa, but that's their decision, not ours." He took her shoulders. "It was Brother's decision, not ours. It was his choice to make, and he made it. And now we have to live with it. We have _accept_ it." She shook her head.

_"No..."_ The girl choked on a sob, leaning into her brother; Asher held her close, rubbing her back.

* * *

The scent of coffee assaulted his nose, and for a brief moment, he thought he was home; that he'd go downstairs and_ Abba_ would be sitting at the kitchen table, coffee in hand, working on his novel. But as he blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up, he remembered that he wasn't home, that he could never go home again. He was at Keavy's house, after running away and telling her he loved her.

And, as of today, he would officially have sided with the ARBI, against his parents' wishes of remaining neutral.

"Sleep well?" He looked up; Mr. Gallagher was perched on the coffee table, watching him. He held out the second cup, which Liron slowly took with a quick nod.

"_Toda_." He stopped, realizing that the man probably didn't understand Hebrew. "It... it's Hebrew for-"

"I know _wha' 't_ means. Keavy told me _'ow_ you'd been _teachin' 'er_ Hebrew." Liron nodded, staring into his cup. The older man sighed.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Gallagher, for showing up on your doorstep this morning, I just..."

"I know, Liron, Keavy filled me in on _wha' 'appened_." James Gallagher studied the boy; a part of him wanted to smack the boy into the next century for leaving his family and abandoning his values for this senseless violence, but there was a part of him that was grateful Keavy had someone who cared about her so deeply. Since Julietta's death, his daughter had withdrawn more and more, and the one bright spot had seemed to be the McGees. She'd grown particularly close to Ziva- the woman had become the mother Keavy so desperately needed in her life now that Julietta was gone, and James had been grateful to Ziva for being willing to be there when his daughter needed her. She and Tim were raising good children- all three of them were brilliant, adventurous, loving. But Liron-

He'd left his family for James's daughter, saying he loved her, and was willing to shed all ties to his past to be with her. Quite a _Romeo and Juliet_ situation the kids found themselves in; the only difference was that instead of two warring families, it was the country at war. Shakespeare himself couldn't have come up with a better plot twist. "_'ow_ did _yer_ parents react?"

"I don't know. Not well, most likely. I... I left them a letter, explaining why. Knowing _Ima_, she's probably making Swiss cheese out of the walls- she tends to throw knives when she gets upset, former Mossad. And _Abba_'s probably trying to calm her down."

"I see." James replied, nodding, watching as the boy sipped his coffee. He caught sight of Keavy hovering in the doorway, and nodded for her to join them. The girl took a seat beside Liron, slowly taking his hand. James watched the two, before noticing the necklace around the boy's neck. He reached out, lifting the chain to study the pendant. "'Tis a beautiful necklace."

Liron looked down at it, nodding. "_Abba_ and _Ima_ gave it to me for my tenth birthday, we all got one when we turned ten." The entwined silver Celtic knot and gold Star of David signified the kids' double heritage- the mystic beauty of Ireland and the sultry danger of Israel- and was something the kids took seriously. The pendants defined them, they were a part of them, like Abba's tattoos were a part of him. His mother's Star of David had been her saving Grace on the _Damocles_, as Tim called it- it had given her the strength to go on, to survive.

"_Ye_ don't _wanna_ give_ yerself_ away. Lose_ th' jew'lry_." Asher met the man's gaze, gently removing his fingers from the pendant.

"I would sooner_ die_ than take this necklace off, Mr. Gallagher." Then, the boy reached over, tugging the Catholic Celtic cross out from beneath his shirt. He met the man's gaze. "You ought to know." Then, he stood, excusing himself.


	18. Chapter 18

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

"Ziva, don't you think you're being irrational-" Tony started. The former Israeli turned to the laptop, glaring daggers at her former partner.

"_He's my son, Tony_! That is _my baby out there_! He ran away from home and joined a... a _terrorist group_ to be with the girl he _says_ he _loves! So yes, I'm being irrational, but don't you think I deserve to be?"_ She screamed, causing both Tony and Bishop to jump back.

"Ziva... _Ziva_!" Gently, Tim took her aside, trying to calm her down, as Gibbs and Vance talked with the two currently London-based agents.

"If we could use Liron and Keavy as... as undercovers, maybe we could-"

"But we'd never be able to get close enough, Tony!" Bishop replied. But before Tony could answer, Marty Deeks, the Detective Liaison for the Los Angeles office, beat him too it.

"Of course _we_ wouldn't, Agent Bishop, but we know a couple people who _could_." He glanced at Tim and Ziva, but the Israeli was clinging to her husband, sobbing. Tim had taken photos and sent the copies to the team in D.C., just in case they'd be of any help to the case, and soon, Vance had every NCIS team working an angle of it- from Seattle to Rota, they were all chipping in to help solve this case and stop the violence- even if on a minute scale, and all, with some hope that it would bring some comfort to their former colleagues.

"Don't even think_ 'bout_ it, _Offic'r_ Deeks." Keavy O'Reilly- an Irish-born American, who'd spent the majority of her childhood bouncing back and forth between Northern Ireland and America during the height of the original Troubles, and an agent at the Seattle office- snapped, glaring daggers at the ragamuffin blonde.

"What we _need_ is a timeline of _everythin'_ that_ 'appened_, from the moment the_ fightin'_ started." Agent Cassius Pride spoke up from the New Orleans office. "Then we can go back and look at each dealer that made a profit in the republic from the time the_ fightin'_ started until now."

"We've all ready done that, Agent Pride." E.J. Barrett spoke up; situated in her office in Rota, Spain, she was looking at the timeline they'd managed to draw up on the arms dealers.

"I'm sorry, but what does this have to do with_ getting my son back_?" Ziva screamed; she'd calmed down enough to pull away from Tim and returned to the laptop, hearing raised voices.

"It has everything to do with it, Agent David." Agent Pride said, unaware that neither she nor Tim were members of NCIS anymore. Ziva didn't bother correcting his slip.

"_How, Agent Pride? My baby is out there somewhere, probably planting explosives and tripwires and... and God knows what else because those..._ _those terrorists tell him to!_ So how the_ Hell does this case _have_ anything _to do with_ my baby being gone? Tell me, please, _cause I would_ really like to know!"_ She pointed towards the door, pressing her other hand to her chest, as sobs shook her petite frame and she turned from the screen, covering her mouth with her hand as she began to pace again in worry. Pride lowered his head, sighing.

"I'm sorry, Agent David. I know it must be difficult-"

"Do you have children, Agent Pride? Do_ any_ of you?" Ziva asked, cutting him off as she turned back to him. He met her gaze, seeing the pain of a woman who'd lost her child and had no idea how to handle it. In all his years at NCIS, the look in a mother's eyes still haunted him.

"No, I don't, Mrs. McGee." He whispered softly, seeing her as the wife and mother and not the former agent for the first time. The others remained silent. She nodded.

"Then you _don't know_." She slammed her hands on the tabletop, leaning towards the video feed, making sure her words reached all of them loud and clear. "If my baby dies in that violence because of a choice _he_ made, and I find out its because of some _arms dealer_ smuggling weapons into Ireland, I am holding _all of you_ accountable, and I _will_ make sure that _you all_ pay for getting my son's blood on your hands." She pushed herself away from the table and left the room; Tim watched them all jump as the bedroom door slammed.

Tony was the first to stupidly break the silence. "Tim-"

"You know, my wife and I don't often discuss what's going on here, but for once, I'm glad we did. Because she's right." He crossed his arms over his chest and studied his former colleagues. "My son is out there somewhere, taking the advice I _wish to God_ I _hadn't given_ him. He may plant bombs or hand out pamphlets or commit murder, and if he does, you can deal with him, but if he dies- if_ any_ of my children die- because you weren't able to catch whoever's supplying these groups with weapons, and Zi and I find out about it, I'm not gonna bother holding her back. I might just join her instead. If your chicken investigation costs my children their lives, you're gonna have to deal with Ziva and I. Are we clear?" They all nodded, silent. Gibbs took a deep breath.

"Listen, Tim-" But he ended the conversation, shutting the laptop off and turning off the program, before heading upstairs. He found his wife curled up on Liron's bed, holding his pillow close, sobbing.

_"Oh Ziva."_ He joined her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close, pressing a kiss to her shoulder and then one to her hair. He gently stroked her hair, before reaching down and taking her hands. "I know, baby. I want him back, too. I'm so sorry; it's my fault." She shook her head, choking out the words '_our_ fault' before losing it again and breaking down, sobbing harder. _"I'm so sorry, baby, so, so sorry..."_

Neither noticed Asher, Devin, Liam or Zipporah standing in the bedroom doorway, watching, tears in their eyes.


	19. Chapter 19

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

In the week's time since Liron had run off, Vance had gotten the rest of the Alphabet agencies to agree to help in the arms ring, and even gone so far as to contact Scotland Yard and the Police Service in Northern Ireland, as well as several of the agencies in England and Wales. The FBI, once they learned of the situation, contacted their counterparts in Canada, and Europe, asking for assistance. Every agency- whether ties to NCIS or people in Ireland or not- was working the arms dealer case, in hopes they could help stop the violence from escalating further. Tony and Bishop were keeping close tabs on those possible suspects in England, and Gibbs, Pride and Mai Anh- the Team Leader of the MCRT in Seattle- were keeping close tabs on Tim and Ziva. Of course, Gibbs was keeping a closer eye on his kids for more than one reason.

Tim had gotten in touch with James Gallagher, and the two had talked briefly, before agreeing to meet at the little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop to discuss this mess their children had gotten themselves into. Tim rolled the sugar canister between his long, slender fingers, becoming lost in thought.

This was his fault; he'd filled Liron's head with ideas, talking about making choices and doing what was right. He knew the boy had listened- all of his children listened to both him and Ziva, and that was the problem- but he never thought Liron would take him_ seriously_. He sighed. The house was empty; it'd lost something when the boy left; Zipporah and Liron were quieter than usual, Jethro lay by the door all day, waiting for Liron to return, and Ziva-

He swallowed; Ziva had taken it hardest of all.

His wife had emotionally shut down after discovering their son had run off; she'd resorted to her old Mossad tactics and barely said a word, never cracked a smile anymore. She wasn't sleeping, spent most of her time up, pacing the hallway, thinking up possible plans to get her son back, but always ended up just sitting either on the stairs or at the kitchen table, staring at the hardwood, silent. Tim was half afraid his wife was losing her mental stability.

Asher and Zipporah kept close tabs on their mother, and Devin and Liam spent more time over at the house, keeping Ziva company after school. Devin, who'd learned a good deal from her father before his death, was keeping close watch on Ziva, for signs of stress or a nervous breakdown.

The door opened and Tim looked up as James Gallagher entered the coffee shop, quickly scanning the tables before spotting Tim. After ordering, he slid into the seat across from Tim. He took a deep breath. "Thanks for meeting me, James." The other man nodded.

"_No'_ a problem." Once their coffee arrived, he asked, "Look, Tim, _'bout_ Liron-"

"My son ran off because he says he's in love with your daughter, James. He's gone against mine and my wife's wishes that he remain neutral and joined the ARBI. He's thinking with his heart when he needs to be thinking with his head. If he doesn't, it's going to get him killed, and if that happens..." Tim sighed, sipping his coffee. "if that happens, it'll kill my wife."

James swallowed, closing his eyes. He knew the pain of losing his spouse; Julietta had died in an explosion that had destroyed half their block nearly three years ago. The injuries she'd sustained had put her in the hospital and then taken her life; their son, Patrick, had been fourteen-months-old and killed instantly in the blast. Ziva had found the boy's body, and promptly broken down. "I_ nev'r though'_ Liron would actually-"

"Actually fall in love with Keavy? Actually abandon his family?" Tim asked.

"Show up on _me_ doorstep at five in_ th' mornin', sayin'_ he loves_ me_ daughter _an'_ ran away from_ 'ome t'_ be _wit'_ her." Tim swallowed, taking a deep breath.

"They've gotten themselves into a real mess, both of them. Keavy told Ziva and I everything- what the ARBI does, how they work to recruit others, everything but where they get the weapons from. And my former boss wants to use both Keavy and Liron as undercovers." James raised an eyebrow. "Wire them with recording devices to get information that can help break this case." He shook his head. "I can't do that to my own son-"

"But _wha'_ if we don't _'ave_ a choice, Tim?"

* * *

The waves crashed on the shore, but she paid them no mind. She sat in the sand, on one of the blankets, holding Mr. Bunny Rabbit, tears streaming down her cheeks. Jethro lay on the sand beside her, staring out at the water. The sound of laughter brought her from her thoughts, and she turned, to see Asher and Devin chasing each other, the water crashed over their bare feet, and after a moment, Asher scooped Devin up and dumped her into the cold sea. The quartet had gone for coffee before coming to the beach; they'd left Ziva in the watchful care of Gibbs and the others who'd called to discuss new developments in the arms case.

"Zip?" She looked up, meeting Liam's gaze, as he sat beside her on the blanket. Jethro briefly lifted his head before laying back down. She swallowed, leaning into his side, wrapping an arm around his neck, choking on a sob. Liam held her close, letting her cry. Gently, he rubbed her back, watching Devin walk Asher back into the water before tackling him and causing them both to lose their balance. When he turned back, Zipporah was watching him, tears slipping down her cheeks. She swallowed, gaze darting to his lips before moving back to his eyes.

"I... I think..." She forced herself to swallow the lump in her throat. "I love you, Liam." She leaned close, green eyes fluttering closed. He swallowed, gently pushing her away, as Asher and Devin returned, dripping wet and holding hands.

"_No'_ up for a swim?" Devin asked, causing Zipporah's eyes to snap open. The hurt on her face screamed at Liam, but he took a deep breath and stood.

"_Gonna_ go for a walk." He muttered, leaving Zipporah sitting on the blanket alone, fresh tears running down her cheeks. Devin grabbed a towel and dried off, sitting beside her, and after quickly drying off and pulling on his jeans and shirt, Asher rushed off to talk to the younger boy.


	20. Chapter 20

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

"Liam! Hey, wait up!" The boy glanced over his shoulder and stopped, letting Asher catch up. "What happened back there? Zippa looked about ready to burst into tears." The younger boy swallowed, taking a deep breath.

"Zip, she... she said the 'L' word."

Asher's green gaze narrowed, his brow furrowing in confusion. "The 'L' word?" Liam started, surprised that the older boy didn't know what he was talking about.

"_Aye, ye_ know-" The boy shook his head. "_'ow_ sheltered are _ye_?" Asher narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not sheltered." He growled, studying the younger boy. "I've never been sheltered."

"Really? Because_ ye_ seem pretty sheltered _t'_ me." Liam replied, before glancing over his shoulder at the girls. He sighed. "Zip said_ tha'.. tha'_ she loves me." Asher stopped, turning to the younger boy.

"Wait, Zipporah... _my baby sister_... told you that... that she _loves you_?" Liam nodded. Asher sighed, balling his hands into fists. Liam backed up, holding his hands up in surrender.

"I _dinna..._ I _swear_, Asher, I..." But before he could say anything else, Asher had turned and was making his way back towards Devin and Zipporah.

"_What do you mean you told Liam that you love him_?" Zipporah scrambled to her feet, yanking the blanket out from under Devin and balling it up, tossing it at her brother. She then turned to Jethro, clicking her tongue, signaling the dog to follow. Instantly, the shepard got to his feet, falling into step with the youngest of his master and mistress's pups. Asher grabbed his sister's elbow. "You can't_ possibly be serious, Zippa_! _You're a kid_!"

_"You sound just like Abba!"_ She screamed, yanking away from him._ "And I am not a kid!"_

"So what, if Liam joined the ARBI or the IUFI tomorrow, you_ wouldn't_ run off to be with him, like Brother did when Keavy joined the ARBI?" Zipporah bit her lip.

"Maybe I would. If I wanted to be with him!" Asher shook his head, unable to believe he was hearing this from his baby sister. In as calm a voice as he could muster he tried to make her understand.

"Zippa, you would be stepping into a fight that you might not be able to walk away from. Could you imagine what that would do to_ Ima_ and _Abba_ if you ran off and joined the IUFI?_ It'd probably kill Ima_!" She sniffled, reaching up and wiping at her nose. "Do you want to do that to _Ima_ and _Abba_? They already lost Liron, the last thing they need is to lose you too. Or me." She shook her head.

"I don't but..." Her tear-filled green gaze shifted to Liam and Devin, who watched the siblings, silent. She sniffled, meeting her brother's gaze. "But I do love him..." She took a deep breath, puling away from her brother and going to Liam. "Please, Liam." She whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. "T... tell me you feel the same way..." But before he could say anything, she kissed him softly; he gently pushed her away.

"Zip... I _really_ like _ye_, _bu'... bu'_ I don't love _ye_... maybe _som'day_, _bu'... bu'_ not_ righ'_ now. Asher's_ righ'_, we're... we're too young..." She pulled away, mouth dropping in shock.

"But-" Liam swallowed, taking her hands.

"I... I'm sorry, Zip. _Bu'_ we're too young_ t'_ be _sayin'_ we love each _oth'r_. Maybe when we're older..." She pulled away, glaring at him.

"I don't understand, _how can you say that_? You're my boyfriend! Wh... he... boyfriends and girlfriends are supposed to love each other! Liron and Keavy do!"

"_Yer_ brother_ isn't thinkin' wit' 'is 'ead, Zip! 'e's thinkin' wit' 'is 'eart!"_

_"Everyone thinks that way!"_ She screamed, as Asher stepped between the two teenagers, attempting to stop his sister from killing the younger boy. He reached for her hands, but she pulled away._ "No, don't touch me, Brother!"_

_"Zippa, you have to... you're acting... you're being irrational!" _

_"So because I love you, you won't love me? You're one of my best friends-"_ She cried, trying to shove Asher out of the way, but he grabbed her shoulders, trying to hold her still.

"_Zipporah, stop_!" But Asher reeled back as Zipporah hauled off and smacked him hard. Then, she knelt down and grabbed Mr. Bunny Rabbit from where he'd come to rest in the sand when she'd dropped him.

"_Ani Soneh Otchah! I hate you both_!" Then, she turned on her heel, motioning for the dog to follow. "Come on, Jet." The other three watched her leave, Jethro by her side. Asher pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Am I the _only one_ in this family that thinks with their _head_?" He muttered, as Liam swallowed and slowly spoke up.

"I... I'm sorry, Asher, for-" But the older boy shook his head, turning to him.

"It's not you, Liam. It's Zippa. It's... everything. It's Brother running off and... and it's just everything right now." The boy nodded, before the three gathered up the blankets and pillows and returned them to their places and then headed home.

* * *

Ziva looked up from her baking as the front door opened. Tim removed his headphones from his ears, his novel forgotten as Zipporah slammed the door, accidentally catching Jethro's tail in the process. The dog cried out and dashed upstairs, tale between his legs. The adults shared a look before Ziva wiped her hands on a towel and made her way towards the living room. "Zipporaleh, what's-"

But she was cut off by Zipporah rushing into the kitchen and throwing her arms around her mother's waist. The girl burst into sobs, burying her face in her mother's chest. Ziva glanced at her husband, before slowly wrapping her arms around her daughter, stroking her hair. The child's shoulders shook with sobs, and it took Ziva several minutes for her to get the girl to speak in a coherent sentence. "Zipporah, what happened, talk to us, what's wrong?" She guided the girl to the kitchen table, pushing her into the chair before getting a towel and returning to wipe the tears away, but by then, Zipporah had climbed into Tim's lap, burrowing into her father's shoulder.

"He..._ he doesn't love me_..." Her parents shared a glance, confused.

"Who, sweetheart?" Tim asked, as the girl pulled away to stare at her father, just as the door opened and Asher, Devin and Liam came in. She turned to the other three, choking out,

_"Liam."_


	21. Chapter 21

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Excuse me while I _kill_ the muse...**

Zipporah and Liam didn't talk for the rest of break, and the girl's carefree attitude quickly shut down. Ziva and Tim watched their baby girl go from the talkative chatterbox to nearly mute. So it was one afternoon, two days before the kids returned to school after their two weeks off, when Tim and Tony were going over the latest evidence, that Zipporah wandered into the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

"Hey Zora!" The girl turned, studying Tony on the camera, before turning back to the task at hand. Then, without a word, she returned to the living room, where she was playing reading, with Jethro on the floor at her feet. Asher was upstairs, listening to music and writing in his latest journal. Tony glanced at Tim. "Okay, McDaddy, what happened? Zora can never resist joking with me and this time she flat out-"

"Liam broke her heart." Tim replied, dropping his pen on the table. "She told him she loved him and he told her that they were moving too fast. That they were too young, and Zipporah didn't want to hear it." Tony winced.

"Oh, God. She said the 'L' word before he did?" Tim nodded.

"Yeah. But Zip... she doesn't even know what love is. She's a child, how can she? This... whatever it was with Liam... it's puppy love. It's not anywhere near what she'll feel for the man she marries. This is just infatuation-"

"Is it, Tim?" Tony asked. "What about you and Ziva, huh? Was that puppy love? Infatuation?" Tim stayed silent. "You two slept together when you were_ teenagers_! You _got her pregnant_ and_ left her_ carrying _your child_! She fell in love with you, and for eight years, carried your memory in her heart until she could find you again and introduce you to your son! And don't you dare deny that you weren't still in love with her! From the moment she stepped into the bullpen that day, it was evident that even though you didn't recognize her, you were still in love with her. You've always been in love with Ziva, from the moment you met that day in Israel."

"This is different, Tony." Tim ground out.

"How is it different, Tim, huh? Tell me."

_"Because she's my daughter! She's my baby girl!"_ Tim snapped, slamming his hands on the table and standing. _"It's my job to protect her! To raise her and make sure she's safe! To make sure knows right from wrong! That's been my job from the moment she was conceived! I'm her father!"_

Tony sighed. "I understand that, Tim-"

"Do you?" The former agent leaned towards the computer. "Do you_ really_, Tony? Do you have any children? Have you helped your wife bring them into this world and then done your_ best_ to make sure they grow up to be strong, independent adults? Have you?" He pulled back. "Of course you haven't. You've never had a steady relationship in your life. You flit from one relationship to the next, one conquest after another, without knowing what true love is. So _don't tell me_ you understand, because _you don't_!"

* * *

She couldn't sleep; her father's conversation with Tony still rang loud and clear in her head. Abba had said that Tony didn't know the first thing about love, that she didn't know what love was. She knew what love was. She loved Abba, and Ima, and Jethro and her brothers; she loved Mr. Gibbs and Tony and the rest of the team; she loved Tali and Sarah_ Doda_, and Damon and Michael _Dohd_, and Esther and Benjamin and Maura. She loved them all.

And she loved Liam.

With all her heart.

This wasn't puppy love, she knew that much. Puppy love wasn't this strong, it didn't feel like this. This was a burning ache, liked her heart had been lit on fire; she had butterflies in her stomach whenever she thought of Liam, and she got giddy and excited.

And she hadn't felt that way in days. Not since he told her that they were too young. She adjusted her headphones, turning up the volume. OneRepublic's _Counting Stars_ began to play, and she took a deep breath, struggling to keep from crying. _"'Lately, I've been, I've been losing sleep, dreaming about the things that we could be.'"_

Her family had been ripped apart thanks to this violence, this... destruction. And while her parents and Asher remained neutral, and Liron had made his choice and picked his side, she began to realize she had to choose too._ "'But baby, I've been, I've been playing hard, said, no more counting dollars, we'll be counting stars, yeah we'll be counting stars.'"_

Something hit her window. Thinking it was just the wind, she ignored it, forcing herself to swallow her tears. It hit her window again, stronger this time. Slowly, she sat up, watching the window. Again, something hit her window, and this time, she pulled her headphones from her ears, climbing off the bed. One glance out the window had her rushing downstairs; she quietly unlocked the door and stepped outside. "What are you doing here?"

Liam swallowed. "I... I _though' 'bout_ it, _an'_..." He took a deep breath. "I_ canna_ stop_ thinkin' 'bout ye_, Zipporah. I... I _canna_ sleep, eat, concentrate... I see _ye_ everywhere. I... I'm sorry. I_ nev'r_ meant_ t'_ hurt _ye_."

Tears slid down her cheeks. "What are you saying, Liam?"

The boy searched her gaze, before reaching up and gently brushing the tears away with his thumb. A moment passed, before he whispered, "I'm _sayin' tha'_ I... I love _ye_, Zipporah." She choked on a sob.

"Really?" He nodded.

"_Aye_. I love _ye_." She threw her arms around his neck, kissing him quickly. He held her close, relishing the feel of her in his arms. When he set her back on her feet, he kissed her quickly before pulling away to meet her gaze. And then, he leaned down, capturing her lips in a deep kiss. When they broke the kiss, she searched his gaze and whispered,

"Make love to me, Liam."


	22. Chapter 22

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to puppypants for reviewing 15 and 21; Sazzita for reviewing 16; Bratling for reviewing 21; and Reader for reviewing 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 and 21.**

They fled from the house that night, and instead of going back to Liam's they went to the beach instead. Zipporah had rushed upstairs and grabbed pillows and a couple extra blankets she kept under her bed when she didn't use them, and then grabbed her phone and IPod, before slipping downstairs. But something made her stop and turn back. Tony's words rang in her head, and she slipped into her parents' room.

_"Left her carrying your child..."_ She instantly rummaged through the nightstand drawer, before slipping out of the room and rushing from the house. She'd do all she could not to follow in her parents' footsteps.

When she finally slipped out of the house, she went to Liam, taking his hand with a kiss. "Come on."

* * *

The waves crashed on the shore, swarming around their feet as they walked along the sand. They'd set up the blankets and pillows in their hideaway, and then gone for a walk, letting the water splash over their legs. She stopped, turning to him. A smile flitted across her face, before he caught her lips in his, and pulled her close. She grinned when they broke the kiss, and tugged him back towards their hideaway. They stumbled into the blankets, giggling.

She lay back against the pillows that they'd propped against the rocks, searching his gaze for several minutes. Then, slowly, he kissed her, drinking in her taste as they lay there near the dock, with the waves crashing on the shore, and the smell of salt in the night air. She slid her arms around his neck, tangling one hand in his hair, the other grasping his shirt. A moment passed, before he broke the kiss and brushed his lips against her cheek, then her jawbone, before moving down to work on her neck. She tilted her head back, closing her eyes as he gently sucked and nipped at the skin of her throat, before he pulled away and met her gaze.

"Liam-" But he kissed her again, slowly, cautiously, running one hand slowly down her side to settle at her waist. He pulled away, meeting her gaze as he gently slipped his fingers beneath the fabric of her t-shirt, brushing them over the soft skin of her stomach. A moment passed, as he pushed her top up, and suddenly, he stopped. This wasn't right.

He quickly pulled away, as though burned by a match. "Liam-"

"I... I'm sorry, Zip. I... I do love _ye, bu'... bu'_ I can't do this. Not now. We shouldn't, _an' 'tis_ wrong _an'... an'_ neither one _o'_ us are ready... we... we're _actin'_ on... on emotion_, no'... no'_ sense. I'm sorry, Zip." He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. She met his gaze, understanding, but not wanting to believe it. She sat up.

"But... but Liam..." He sat back, crab walking away from her.

"Zip, I love you, I do,_ bu'... bu' 'tis no'_ worth_ yer_ parents _killin'_ me over."

"_Abba_ and_ Ima_ wouldn't hurt you-" Liam scoffed, eyes wide.

"They_ wouldn't_? Zip,_ yer_ parents were_ fed'ral_ agents. They still_ 'ave_ their weapons! I... I'm sorry, Zip, bu... bu' this isn't righ'... we shouldn't be doin' this... no' now..." She took a deep breath, pulling her knees to her chest.

"But_ I love you_."

He sighed. "_An'_ I love_ ye. Bu' _I don't _wanna_ do this-"

"Until the time is right." She finished, sniffling. Then, she laid her head on her knees, tears slipping down her cheeks. "But what if the time is right now?" Liam sighed, shaking his head.

"Zip-"

"I know. My parents don't want me to end up like they did- like _Ima_ did... raising Brother by herself in Be'er Sheva when she was little over-"

"Asher's age." She nodded, sniffling.

"But I don't want to wait..." After a moment, she lowered her knees, grabbing pillow and pulling it into her arms. She played with the pillowcase, tears slipping down her cheeks and dripping from her nose. He sighed. "I love you. I want to be with you."

He bit his lip. "We can still be_ t'gether_. We don't_ 'ave t'_ sleep_ t'gether, bu'_ we can... we can be_ t'gether_." Slowly, Zipporah raised her head to meet his gaze.

"How? Our parents would never let us just live together, we're_ teenagers_-"

"No, _bu'..."_ He stopped, taking her hand. Slowly, he laced their fingers together, choosing his words carefully. "_'tis 'nother_ way we can... be _t'gether."_ She met his gaze, confused.

"How?"

* * *

A month had passed since Liron had sided with the ARBI to be with Keavy, and the two kids had found themselves mixed up in more than one fight between the two groups in that short amount of time. So it was one afternoon, after school, that he met her outside Belgrove; just because kids were mixed up in adult problems didn't mean school was put on hold. She gave him a small smile as she joined him, taking his hand as she got close. They shared a quick kiss before he pulled away and moved to leave campus, only to stop. "Liron, _wha'_ is it?"

He shook his head, he had to be seeing things. He just... he had to be... that couldn't possibly be what he thought it was.

Both groups had their own symbols, their own logos, that separated and showed who was affiliated with which group. For the ARBI, it was an image of a machine gun, wrapped in the British flag. But this... this symbol was the IUFI's- a single clover with the Claddagh symbol within, the words, _One Free Ireland, Many Freedoms_ in white around the clover.

"No... no it... it _can't_ possibly..."

But the girl who wore the shirt lifted her head, and Liron found him heart dropping into the core of the earth. He struggled to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Z..._ Zippi_?"

Zipporah met his gaze, her own emotionless as she studied him. She lifted her chin, taking a deep breath as Liam joined her and took her hand. He had an IUFI patch on his jacket sleeve, and suddenly Liron began to understand. "_Shalom_, _Brother_."


	23. Chapter 23

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Finally watched_ Dallas Buyers' Club_; beautiful, heartbreaking film. Anyway, back to the story at hand...**

He didn't know what possessed him, but he rushed to her, grabbing her arm. "_What the hell do you think you're doing, Zippi? Joining the IUFI?_ _Are you nuts_?"

"Not any more nuts than you were when you joined the ARBI!" She snarled, yanking out of his grasp.

"Don't tell me you did this because of _him_." Liron growled, nodding at Liam, who wisely kept his mouth shut. Asher and Devin, the only two of the small group who at the moment appeared neutral, stood by the gate, watching; Asher was keeping a close eye on his younger siblings, hoping he wouldn't have to jump in and separate them.

"So what if I did?_ You_ did the _same thing_."

"That's entirely different, Zippi!"

"_How_?" She demanded. "How is your joining the ARBI_ any different_ to me joining the IUFI? Huh? How is it different, Liron? _Tell me_!" Her older brother kept quiet, gathering his thoughts. He glanced towards Asher and Devin, and while the girl ducked away, his brother held his gaze.

"Have you told_ Ima_ and _Abba_ yet?" Zipporah lowered her gaze, and Liron shook his head, the tip of his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth- much like his mother's did when she too was thinking. "You haven't told them, have you?"

"I will." She snapped, her head lifting.

"When?" Zipporah kept quiet. "When are you going to tell them? And_ how_ are you going to tell them? _'Abba, Ima, I just wanted to let you know, I joined the IUFI so I could be with Liam. Sorry to disappoint you._' Or are you just going to lie to them and hope they never find out?"

"_Sheket b'vakashah_!" She covered her ears with her hands, shutting her eyes. Asher had moved away from the gate by then, making his way towards them. He tried to stop the argument, but Liron ignored him.

"What's wrong, Zipporah? You don't like hearing the truth from someone else if it doesn't _benefit you_?"

"_Shut up, just Shut. Up_!" She screamed, removing her hands from her ears and looking at him. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she was shaking; though he'd made his baby sister cry, Liron didn't really care at that moment- after the hell she'd given him, the girl deserved a little payback.

"Oh, did I say something you don't like? _Poor baby_-"

"_That's enough! Knock it off, both of you_!" Asher glanced between his younger siblings, disgusted. "You're acting like a couple of spoiled brats! How the hell do you think _Ima_ and _Abba_ would react if they saw you going at each other like this?" The younger two stayed quiet, sharing glances. Asher turned to Liron. "You already broke their hearts by running off- I get that it was your decision, but did you even think- did you think at all- about how this would affect _Abba_? How it would affect _Ima_? You _broke her heart_ when you ran off! She's not herself anymore! But why bother saying anything? It's not like _you_ care." He turned to Zipporah, studying his baby sister.

"And_ you_." He growled; Zipporah shrank back. "How _dare_ you. How_ dare_ you join the IUFI and then _hide_ it. How dare you lie to_ Abba_ and_ Ima_, and let them think you've remained neutral in this whole thing. You_ know_ how they feel about keeping secrets. And you've been lying to them this entire time about where your loyalties lie. How can you stand to look at yourself in the mirror, Zippa? And when, may I ask, were you planning on telling_ Abba_ and_ Ima_ that you've _obviously_ joined the IUFI? Over dinner? Before bed?" The girl swallowed. "Why don't you just leave that shirt on and walk through the front door; I'm sure once they see that symbol on your chest, they'll understand how their daughter betrayed them and abandoned everyone important to her for some stupid ideology that's going to get her killed." He shook his head, glancing at Liam. "What did you do, Zippa? Sleep with Liam to get him to stay? That's just as stupid as Liron's running off to be with Keavy."

He turned back to Liron, sizing his younger brother up. "Your my baby brother and my baby sister, and I love you both, I always will, but right now, I've never been so disgusted in my entire life. So go ahead, kill each other, smuggle weapons in from the outside for your 'ideals' and your 'cause', but when you get shot and find yourselves bleeding in the street, don't come crying to me. Because right now, I don't want to know you, I don't want to be related to you, I don't want anything to do with you. With _either one_ of you." He studied them both before taking Devin's hand. "So go ahead, kill each other for your misguided ideals and fake promises they're shoving down your throats. Because right now, as far as I'm concerned, I don't have any siblings." As he and Devin left the school campus, he turned back, studying his siblings. "I think I liked it better when I was an only child."

* * *

Ziva looked up as Asher and Devin shut the front door behind them. "Hey, how was school?" Devin immediately settled on the sofa and pulled out her homework, while Asher dropped his bag by the door and wandered into the kitchen, hands in his pockets. He watched his mother knead the dough for Irish soda bread- Ziva had turned to baking even more now, to keep her mind off Liron's running off. She glanced at her son, but Asher kept his gaze on her hands. "Everything okay, my angel?"

He licked his lips. "_Ima_," He turned, going to the table counter and running his fingers over the countertop, trying to figure out the best way to break the news to her. "Where's_ Abba_?"

"He and James Gallagher are out having coffee, trying to work out a problem." Asher nodded; he understood that 'the problem' was in regards to his brother and Keavy. Asher nodded.

"Oh."

"Why? What's so important that you wanted to know where_ Abba_ is?" Ziva asked, looking up at her son. He swallowed, trying to gather his courage.

"It... it's about... Zippa."

"What about Zipporah?" Asher swallowed, stuffing his hand back into his pocket. He took a deep breath, struggling to keep the sick feeling rising in his throat as he broke the news to Ziva.

"Zippa... she... she joined the... the IUFI... so... so that she could be with... with Liam." He watched his mother closely, but she continued to knead, and then, suddenly stopped as the words penetrated her brain. He glanced over his shoulder at Devin, worried. "_Ima_?"


	24. Chapter 24

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: One simple statement sends Ziva back...**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 22 and 23.**

She hadn't moved. Her fingers remained in the bread dough, still. For a moment, Asher was afraid she'd stopped breathing. And then, she slowly, calmly removed her hands from the dough, rinsing her hands off and drying them. Asher watched her, worried. "_Ima? Ima_, say something, you're _scaring me_..." Ziva seemed to freeze, her gaze looking through him, seeing something he couldn't.

She couldn't have heard right. Her... her daughter... had joined the... the IUFI... a... a terrorist organization?

A _terrorist_ organization.

_Saleem, and his men, with the blue bandanas around their necks, the color of their group, their terrorist fraction._

And now, her daughter- just like her younger son- was a part of one...

Ziva had grown up around terrorist organizations- her friends as school had family members in such organizations; they were the ones that planned suicide bombings, shootings, raids... the murders of unarmed innocents, like her mother...

She met Asher's gaze, swallowing. "How... how long?"

"What?"

"How long? How long has your sister been..." She brought a hand to her mouth. "how long has she been in this group?"

Asher swallowed. "A month."

A month. Her daughter had been in this group, probably smuggling in weapons, probably plotting murders and raids and riots, learning to use a gun for murder instead of protection, right under her nose, for a _month_...

She rushed to the trash, throwing open the lid and vomiting, the scent of that dank, dark dungeon she'd been trapped in for months resurfacing and making her sick. _"Ima_? Are you okay, do you need something?" But she shrugged Asher's hand off her shoulder, head buried in the trash, with only the smell of blood and her own burning flesh causing the contents of her stomach to rise up to meet her lips. She shifted, reaching a hand behind her to grasp her shirt; her hand slipped beneath the fabric, and she dug her nails into her back, moving over the scars she bore from Somalia. Asher pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing a number.

"Who are you calling?" Devin asked, coming into the room, but staying back, unsure of what to do or how to help.

"_Abba_. He needs to know that something's wrong with _Ima_. She's never reacted like this before, to anything." As he waited for his father to pick up, he couldn't help thinking that this was the calm before the storm.

* * *

Zipporah stepped into the house, unaware of the impending storm awaiting her. She'd been careful to keep her jacket on and closed, but as she dropped her backpack by the door, she forgot about it, shocked to see her mother with her head in the trash. Asher stood back with Devin, unsure of what to do, and Tim was rubbing his wife's back, talking softly to her.

"It's okay, Zi, you're home. You're not in Somalia anymore, you're in Ireland. You're home, you're safe."

But all his wife did that signaled any form or response, was when she lifted her head long enough to yank her shirt over her head, and dig her nails into her back, working over the burns and scars that marred her beautiful back- a lasting testament to the treatment she'd received at the hands of Saleem and his goons. Devin choked on a gasp, covering her mouth with her hands, and Asher paled; he remembered seeing the scars when he was a kid, just after Tim had brought the boy's mother back from Somalia.

"Wh... what's going on?" Zipporah glanced from her brother to her parents and back, suddenly wishing she hadn't told Liam goodbye at his place before heading home. Asher turned, meeting his sister's gaze. He went to the girl, grabbing her arm and yanking her towards the kitchen.

"Thanks to you, something's wrong with_ Ima_-"

"She's had a flashback, Asher." Tim replied as he struggled to keep his wife's hands from digging into the scarred hands of her back. Zipporah turned to her parents, confused.

"I... I've never seen those before..." Zipporah whispered, stepping closer to study the scars on her mother's back. "What... where..."

"When she was held captive in Somalia, Zippa." Asher snapped.

"I... I didn't know_ Ima_ was-"

"_Of course_ you didn't. It was_ before_ you were _even born_! Back when it was just_ Ima_ and_ Abba_ and Brother and I! Before you came along and screwed everything up!"

_"Hey! Asher, dai! That's enough!"_ The boy let go of his sister, swallowing. Tim turned back to his wife, but stopped, and turned back, doing a double take. He had to be seeing things. A moment passed before Tim gently laid a hand on Ziva's back and stood. "Asher, take your sister upstairs. _Now_!" The three kids scrambled up the stairs, but they hid on the steps, listening as he tried to calm his wife down.

"_Wha's happenin' t' 'er_?" Devin asked softly; they could hear Tim's soft voice, and Ziva's desperate attempts to get away.

_"Ima_ was taken prisoner in Somalia when Liron and I were little- he was maybe... three, four. Before Zipporah showed up." He glared at his sister, but she crossed her arms and ducked her head. "_Ima_ won't talk about it, but I saw the scars on her back one night... the terrorist people she was... was being held by... they tortured her. Nearly killed her._ Abba _and Tony and Gibbs saved her and brought her back to the States, they brought her home."

His mother's voice, screaming in Hebrew, sent Asher scooting to the base of the stairs. He peeked around the corner, in time to see Tim, sitting on the floor beside his mother, holding her head in his hands. _"Listen to me, Ziva! Listen to me! Baby, you're home, you're okay! You're safe! No one is going to hurt you anymore_! Ziva, Saleem is dead, remember? _Saleem is dead! Gibbs killed him_!"

Asher watched his mother freeze, and she took a shaky breath. "Saleem?"

Tim nodded. "Yes. When we went to Somalia and got you, we were captured and just as Saleem was about to kill you, Gibbs killed him instead,_ remember, baby_?"

"_You will die with me, and leave our sons as orphans_." She muttered, stuck in the hell that had been her nightmares; repressed, vicious, now back full force, thanks to the mention that her daughter had been in the IUFI for a month. A single_ month_...

Tim shook his head. "No, baby. Our boys are safe, we're safe, remember that. Ziva, look at me. Remember that, okay?" She met his gaze, but looked through him. Her voice, when she spoke, like her gaze, was stoic, locked in that day when she nearly sacrificed herself for the father of her children.

_"I did not ask for anyone to put themselves in harm's way for me. Especially the father of my children. I do not deserve it."_

Tim sighed, taking a deep breath. He let go of her and climbed to his feet, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead, as he tried to think of something to do. On the stairs, Devin and Zipporah joined Asher, watching the scene silently. After a moment, Tim turned back to his wife. She was silent, still, though inside, he knew she was a mess; the chaos Somalia had wrought on her fragile psyche once buried, now brought completely to the surface and exposed. She'd had episodes over the years like this, but never this bad- usually a nightmare or a panic attack, something she always snapped out of quickly, but never... never _this..._

It was then that he realized the only way to get her to snap out of it, was to play along. Something he vowed he would never do if she got like this. Taking a deep breath, he scoffed gently, replying,

_"So what are you doing out here? Some kind of a... monastic experience, Zi? Doing penance?"_ Her eyes shifted, but she didn't look at him.

_"It is justified."_

Tim shook his head, leaning over the back of the chair and resting his head on his hands, hating himself as he replied,

_"Get over yourself, Ziva."_

It was then that she met his gaze._ "I have."_ He swallowed, he knew what came next, and the words tore at his heart. _"Now you tell Saleem everything he wants to hear, and try to save yourselves. I am ready to die."_

Tim bit his lip, going to the safe. Silent, he unlocked it, pulling out his gun. He quickly added something to it- a single blank- and checked it over, before going back to his wife. He remembered Cranston mentioning that sometimes, the only way to get a person out of the experience they were relieving in their mind was to go through the motions- all of them, in some for or another. And in his wife's case, firing a shot similar to the one that killed Saleem.

He took a deep breath. _"Ziva, can you fight?"_ He walked around her, going to the backdoor. Pushing it open, he held the gun out, pointing it straight for the tree in the backyard. She choked, reaching up and running her fingers through her hair, and he knew that in her mind, Saleem had yanked on her hair, held a knife to her throat and demanded answers.

_"If they do not check in, their people will come looking for them-"_

_"Ziva, shut up!"_ Tim snapped, causing the kids to jump. Asher covered his ears; though he'd heard a gun being fired before, he'd never heard nor watched his father fired his own gun, and it was worrying him. His mother whimpered, and all Asher wanted was to rush into the kitchen and wrap his mother in a hug, telling her about his day like he'd done as a child, when they were in Israel, and how he'd gotten an A on his History test. But he knew better than to interrupt, than to touch her in the state she was in.

_"Kill me, you will need the Americans for leverage."_ And then, Tim took a deep breath and pulled the trigger; the shot rang out, causing both girls to jump. Ashe sat with his face buried in his knees, hands over his ears, humming one of his mother's lullabies so he wouldn't have to hear the resounding crack. When he finally looked up, Tim had put the gun away and sat on the floor beside Ziva, who's arms were tight around his neck, her face buried in his shoulder, her sobs shattering down to the soul.


	25. Chapter 25

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Zipporah looked up from her homework. Tim stood in her bedroom doorway, watching her. She bit her lip. "What... what happened to _Ima_? Why did she act that way, _Abba_?"

"When were you going to tell _Ima_ and I that you had joined the IUFI?" He countered, studying his daughter.

"Brother told you?" She asked, not meeting his gaze. Tim sighed.

"That, and your shirt was a dead giveaway." She glanced down at her t-shirt, before setting her book aside and pulling her legs up under her on the bed. Tim sighed, joining her on the bed. "What the _hell_ possessed you to join the IUFI, Zipporah? You _know_ they're no better than the ARBI."

She swallowed, meeting his gaze. "I..." She took a deep breath. "I wanted to..." The girl stopped. She loved her father; the bond they shared was strong, deep, and she was terrified if she told him, that it would shatter, and he'd never look at her, never love her, the same way again. That he'd cast aside his baby girl, just as Asher had cast aside his sister, his brother, this afternoon after school.

"Talk to me, Zipporah."

The girl took a deep breath, swallowing after a moment. "You... you won't get mad at me, will you, _Abba_?" She asked, gaze darting up to meet his gaze. Tim thought a moment, cocking his head to the side.

"Depends."

"On... what?" She asked, meeting her father's gaze.

"On what you tell me."

The girl swallowed. Tim studied his baby girl; his only daughter, his beautiful, only daughter. His little girl got more and more like her mother every day- with her long dark curls and those adorable dimples, her cupid's bow and those cheekbones- she was every bit her mother's daughter, identical to his wife in every way, save for her eyes. She hated to disappoint her parents, especially her father. But as she sat there, gathering her thoughts, she realized that disappointing him was _exactly_ what she'd done.

"I... I asked Liam to... to make love to me..." Her father closed his eyes, sighing in disappointment.

"Zipporah, _you know how we feel-"_

"I didn't,_ Abba! I swear_! Liam backed out! We were at the beach and he... and he told me no..." She stopped, watching his face, noticing as he took a deep breath.

"What does this have to do with you joining the-"

"Liam told me." Her father looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. "I... I told him that... that I wanted to... to be with him and he... said there... there was a way..."

"And this was the way?" Tim choked out, tears in his eyes as he met his daughter's gaze. She shrugged.

"He told me I didn't have to... that... that he would love even if I didn't join, but... but I want to be with him..."

"So you _joined_ even when he told you_ not_ to." Tim ground out. Zipporah nodded, closing her eyes. She sniffled, inhaling shakily. She was afraid of opening her eyes, of seeing the disappointment reflected in those identical green depths. Her eyes only snapped open when her father got up, causing the bed to shift. She watched as he began to pace, trying to wrap his head around what she'd told him.

"I... you... Liam told you not to join and yet you joined anyway!" He said, glancing at her. She swallowed, biting her lip.

_"Ani Mitzta'eret, Abba."_

Tim stopped, the words hitting him full force, followed by the realization that while she said it, there was that part of her that didn't mean a word of it. He turned to her, suddenly angry. "You're sorry, Zipporah? Sorry? Do you know that that attack your mother just went through- that I spent an hour and a half trying to calm Ima down- was brought on because you joined that group?"

"I don't... what does my... joining have to... to do with_ Ima_?" She whispered, frightened. Tim scoffed gently, not caring that netiher he nor Ziva had told her of her mother's captivity- Ziva didn't want to scar her child that way.

"What does... what... have to do with..._ It has everything to do with it!"_ He snapped, moving towards the girl, who shrank back. She'd never seen her father this angry. Outside, in the hallway, Ziva leaned against the doorway, behind the half closed door, wrapped in Asher's Curling jacket, listening to the conversation, the argument, the verbal ass chewing her daughter was receiving from her father. Normally, Ziva would have jumped down Tim's throat had he gone after one of the children- but with this, she let him go; Zipporah deserved it, after the stunt she'd pulled, lying to them for a month about where her loyalties lay.

"_Your mother was held prisoner six months by a terrorist group in Somalia!_ She was one of _two survivors_ on the_ Damocles_, and she went on to find that camp _alone_, because it was her mission, and her father ordered her too!_ She was forced to leave America, to leave the team, to leave your brothers and I behind and go back to Israel because her father wanted her! And when he finally got her, he sent her on a suicide mission!"_ He took a deep breath, trying to hold his hands steady as he spoke, using them for emphasis.

"Just hearing _the words_ 'terrorist organization' makes your mother _sick_, Zipporah. Saleem and his men, they beat her, they tortured her, they burned her and chained her and starved her and did all manner of things any psychotic person could think of, and when we rescued her, Saleem yanked her head back and held a knife to her throat! He nearly slit her from ear to ear! You wouldn't be here now if I hadn't convinced the team to come find her!"

Zipporah choked on a sob._ "Abba-"_

"_And now, all these years later, you go and pull a stunt like this? Joining a terrorist organization, when you know how we feel, you know where we stand! I swore to God that I wouldn't let your mother suffer from the repercussions of Somalia if I could help it, and-"_ He pressed a hand to his forehead, struggling to reign his temper in. His next statement was blunt, ringing with contained anger as he realized that he wasn't angry so much about the incident with Ziva, but about the fact that his daughter had lied through her teeth. "You _lied_ to us." She looked up at him.

"_Abba..._ I didn't mean to... I... I love him..."

That got her father's attention. "You _love him_? _Love him_? Zipporah, _you're a child! You don't know the first thing about love_!"

_"I do too, and I know that I love him! I love Liam, Abba! And he loves me, and I want to be with him, and this is the only way we can be together!"_

_"The point is not whether you love him or not, Zipporah!"_ Tim snapped, pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead, trying to still the headache forming. _"The point is that you lied! You lied to us! To both of us! For a month! You said that you hadn't joined the IUFI, that you weren't interested, that you rejected them when they tried to recruit you- I asked you! I asked you on more than one occasion over the last month, if you'd leaned towards the IUFI, and you stared at me, you looked right at me and told me that you hadn't! That you were neutral! That you'd turned them down! And the entire time- the entire time- you were attending_ _meetings and helping carry out plots and smuggle in weapons!"_

_"I didn't mean to-"_ She choked out through her tears.

_"How are we supposed to trust, huh? How the hell are we supposed to trust you now? Tell me, Zipporah, how are we supposed to trust you after what you've pulled? How? Damn it, Zipporah, tell me!"_

She choked on a sob. _"I don't know... I'm sorry, Abba... I'm so sorry..."_ She climbed off the bed, reaching for him, wanting nothing more than for her father to hold her, to scoop her into his arms like he'd done when she was little and settle her on his hip, holding her against him, brushing her hair back and whispering softly to her as he stemmed her tears and told her everything would be all right, that she would be okay, and that it had been an honest mistake.

But when she reached for her father, he pulled away, yanking his arm out of her grasp sharply, glaring at her. _"Abba!"_

_"You brought this on yourself, Zipporah." _And then he turned and left the room. The girl stumbled back, sinking to the floor. She leaned her head back against the bed, sobbing, unable to get the cold, hateful gleam that had been in her father's eyes out of her head.


	26. Chapter 26

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Ziva jumped as Tim exited his daughter's room. She glanced at her husband, but Tim didn't say a word; he just brushed past her, heading towards their room. She followed, silent, catching the door before he could slam it. He looked up; she watched him, noticing the tears on his cheeks and the violence of his hands shaking. A moment passed, before she slipped into the room and went to him, taking his face in her hands.

Her thumbs softly stroked his skin, brushing the tears away as they fell, and she studied his gaze. "Tim-" But he pulled away from her, not wanting to talk, not wanting any form of human contact at the moment. He grabbed a jacket and pulled it on.

"Going for a walk." He said, not looking back. Ziva sighed, sinking onto the bed, as she realized her family was falling apart around her.

* * *

Asher and Devin looked up from their homework, to see Tim heading for the door. "_Abba_?"

"Going for a walk." He replied, not looking back.

"Do... do you want... want company?" Asher asked, afraid to voice any questions or suggestions with his father in this mood. Tim stopped, turning back to his son.

"Do me a favor, go check on_ Ima_ for me, sweetheart." Asher nodded, and then Tim was gone. As the door shut softly behind him, Asher climbed to his feet, heading upstairs. He found Ziva, sitting on the bed, holding tight to a pillow. Slowly, carefully, so as not to spook his mother, Asher went to her kneeling in front of her.

"_Ima_?" Slowly, she met his gaze. Her eyes were haunted, hollow almost, and it scared him.

She sniffled, giving him a watery smile. "Hey, baby boy." Her voice was soft, rough, most likely from earlier in the day. Asher smiled softly at her. Ziva only ever called him baby boy if she'd had a really bad or tiring day.

_He heard the front door open, and climbed to his feet, rushing towards the person who'd entered the house. He could hear Savta's voice from the kitchen. "Asher Malachi, do not run!" He stopped, waiting for the person to turn around; once she did, he rushed to her, arms outstretched._

_"Ima!"_

_His mother knelt down, stumbling back to sit on her butt when he plowed into her, throwing his arms around her neck. She chuckled softly, wrapping her arms tight around her four-year-old son. Gently, Ziva pressed soft kisses to his temple. "Were you good for Savta, tinok? Hmm, baby boy?" She pulled away to look into his face, and it was then that Asher saw how tired his mother was. He nodded slowly, and she smiled at him. "Good."_

_He wrapped his arms around her neck as she climbed to her feet, going into the kitchen. Rivka rushed to her, reaching out for her grandson, but Asher whimpered, holding tight to his mother's neck. Ziva shook her head. "It is okay, Ima." She replied, shifting him on her hip. "He is fine." Rivka raised an eyebrow. _

_"You are exhausted, Zivaleh. Let me take my grandson for a while. You can go rest." But her daughter shook her head, reaching up and brushing her fingers through her son's dark curls. _

_"No, no, I am fine. Just a little tired, is all. They had us running drills all day, to be prepared-" She stopped, forcing herself to keep from saying, 'for when the next political assassination leads to war,' not wanting to scare her son or worry her mother. So instead, she kissed her son's temple, shifting him on her hip. "Tali in the living room?" Rivka nodded, watching as her daughter turned and left the kitchen. Her sister was sitting on the sofa, reading, and Ziva smiled at her as she passed, heading for the bedroom. _

_With the door closed behind her, Ziva sat on the bed, shifting her son to her lap. The boy smiled at her, before cocking his head to the side. Ziva mirrored him, smiling softly. "What are you thinking, my angel?" _

_"You look sad. Is it because... because he is not here?" The boy asked, softly. Ziva's expression softened, and she swallowed thickly. _

_"That is... partially it. But I also... I am tired, work was long, and all I wanted, was to be here, at home, with you." She said, tickling him. He giggled, and scrambled off her onto the bed. Ziva lay back, before sitting up and kicking off her shoes. She then settled back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. But her view of the ceiling was soon blocked by the beautiful sight of her son, staring down at her. "What is it, baby boy?" She asked, chuckling softly._

_"If you are tired, then you should take a nap." His mother thought a moment._

_"What if I do not want to take a nap?" She asked, as the boy pulled away. Then, he lay down beside her, snuggling close._

_"If I take a nap with you, will you take nap?" His mother seemed to think for a moment, but before she could say anything, she yawned. Finally, she nodded._

_"Deal." The boy giggled, snuggling into her, resting his head on her chest, wrapping his small arms around his mother, instantly falling asleep to the familiar beat of her heart, and the feel of her lips on his head._

_"Zivaleh, you will never be able to consider even finding his father if you do not-" But Rivka stopped, at the sight of her daughter and grandson curled up together on the bed, sound asleep. A moment passed, before she grabbed the blanket off the end of the bed and covered them both, pressing a kiss to each head of dark curls before slipping silently out of the room._

His mother yawned, and Asher met her gaze. He took her hands, squeezing gently, tears in his eyes, worry filling the moisture that glistened in his gaze. _"Ima,_ you're tired, you should take a nap."

She chuckled softly. "I'm okay, baby boy." She whispered, taking a shaky breath. Asher shook his head.

"_Abba_ told me to check on you-"

"And you have."

"_Ima, please_," He whispered, biting his lip. "Take a nap, you need the sleep. You haven't been sleeping as is-"

"That is partially your father's fault-" She muttered.

"And I don't think you'll get much tonight either. Not with Zippa the way she is right now." Ziva sighed, meeting his gaze.

"If I take a nap, will you calm?" He nodded. She sighed softly and climbed back onto the bed, pulling back the covers before climbing under the blankets. But she couldn't sleep, not with her mind the way it was, and especially not with Asher watching her every move. "If I take a nap, will you?" She asked, and after a moment, he nodded, climbing onto the bed, and settling on top of the covers, snuggling into his mother's embrace. Out of instinct, Asher lay his head on her chest, breathing in her familiar scent as her heartbeat soon lulled him to sleep. Ziva pressed a kiss to his head, before following suit.

Devin, finally board with waiting downstairs for a report on Ziva, finally came upstairs. "Asher, _'tis yer_-" But she stopped, at the sight before her. Asher, curled into his mother's embrace, both sound asleep. After a moment, she slipped into the room and grabbed a blanket of the end of the bed, tucking it around them before she left the room, heading downstairs to finish her homework.


	27. Chapter 27

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to puppypants and mcgeeksgirl for reviewing 26; Reader for reviewing 24, 25 and 26. **

The mug was warm against his skin, and he found himself staring at the coffee in the mug, but couldn't bring himself to drink it. His mind kept going back to his argument with Zipporah, when his baby girl had claimed she loved Liam, and had begged him to understand. He swallowed, finally picking up the mug and taking a sip.

He hated the teenage years, with a passion.

"Tim?" His head snapped up; James Gallagher stood before him, with Enya O'Maura and Liam's father William. "_Wha'_ are _ye doin'_ here? I_ though' ye_ went_ 'ome t'_ Ziva-"

"I did." He replied.

"_Wha' 'appened t'_ Ziva?" Enya asked, glancing between the men. Tim sighed, setting his cup down. He nodded to the other chairs at the table, and they quickly sat, as a waitress brought over three more mugs, filling each before leaving. He took a deep breath, crossing his arms on the table.

"Zipporah... she joined the IUFI."

Enya gasped, shocked. She knew kids were being recruited, but never thought that a smart girl like Zipporah would be taken in. "Wha'... oh Tim..."

"Liam recruited her." As William opened his mouth to reply, Tim continued on. "I know, he told her that she didn't have to, but she joined anyway."

"Wait, how did Liam-" Enya asked, turning to William.

"_'is_ older brother recruited him. I_ dinna_ know_ 'bout_ it until _las'_ month when Liam told me._ 'e_ apologized, said_ tha'_ Conner was in it, and-" William took a deep breath. "But Connor_ 'tis_ in college, at Dublin University. _'e's_ an adult, _'e_ can make_ 'is_ own decisions. Liam's still a child, _'e_ can't."

"At least you got the truth a month early." Tim replied, sipping his coffee. "Ziva and I went a month before Zipporah told us anything- and it wasn't Zipporah that broke the news, it was Asher." The other three groaned softly, closing their eyes with a shake of their heads. "Ziva heard the words 'terrorist organization' and it sent her back to Somalia."

"Somalia?" Enya asked, confused. Tim sighed; he told them the whole story, of her captivity, the rescue mission, the repercussions, and how Zipporah's actions had sent her mother into an attack unlike anything had ever seen.

"So... it took _ye firin'_ a blank_ t'... t'_ pull _'er ou' o'_ it?" William asked. Tim nodded.

"Yeah. I... I've never seen her like that..." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly. "I have to do something. My family is following apart because of this violence. I _have_ to do something-"

Enya reached out, grabbing his hand. He met her gaze. "_We 'ave t'_ do_ som'thin'_." She corrected.

* * *

Zipporah slipped out of her room, checking to make sure no one was in the hall. Then, she slipped downstairs, making a beeline for the coffee. "Do _ye_ care _'bout yer_ family_ a'_ all?" She stopped, turning to find Devin watching her from her place by the kitchen table.

"I'm sorry?" Zipporah furrowed a brow, confused. The older girl slowly wandered over to her.

"Do _ye_ care _'bout yer_ parents_ a'_ all?" She asked slowly, as though speaking to a toddler. "_B'cause_ looks_ t'_ me like_ ye_ don't care_ 'bout_ anyone _bu' yerself_."

"That's not true." But even as she said it, Zipporah knew she was lying.

"Really?_ 'cause_ Liron _a'_ least_ 'ad_ the decency_ t'_ write _yer_ parents a letter when _'e_ left!_ An' ye... ye_ lied _t_' them for..." Devin stopped, shaking her head. _"Ye've nev'r_ cared_ 'bout yer_ family,_ 'ave ye_, Zipporah?" She asked. "At least_ yer_ family is still whole- still alive. If I were _ye_, I... I'd be_ jumpin'_ for joy." She sniffled, blinking the tears away. Zipporah winced, knowing that Devin was thinking about her father.

The creak of the stairs caused both women to turn; Ziva stepped into the kitchen, her hair disheveled from sleep; but both girls noticed that she did look better- if only slightly. Asher appeared behind her, studying the two girls. Choking on a sob, Zipporah went to her mother, wrapping her arms around her neck. "_Ima_-" But all Ziva did was push her daughter away. "_Ima_, I... I'm _sorry_." She whispered, causing Ziva to stop. But then she took a seat at the table, burying her face in her hands. Asher quickly rushed to take care of his mother, setting a cup of steaming tea in front of her with a soft kiss to her cheek.

"It's fine, Zipporah." Ziva whispered, staring into her tea. "Do whatever you want. I'm not gonna fight you anymore." The kids shared glances, confused.

_"Ima!"_ Asher took a seat beside his mother, studying her face. But Ziva just met his gaze and then turned back to her tea. "You can't be serious!"

"Asher," Ziva looked up at her son, meeting his gaze with a sigh. She heard the front door open, but didn't turn towards her husband. "I'm tired. There is only so much a person can take, and I think I've reached my limit. It's not worth fighting anymore. Abba and I have done all we could to make sure you kids stay neutral, but it's your decision, ultimately. And if Zipporah wants... to lose her life to the violence I fought so hard to run from, to protect my children from... she can. I won't stop her." She reached over, gently brushing her fingers down her son's cheek, before getting up. She caught sight of Tim in the living room, and sighed, turning to glance at her children. "I never thought I would see the day my own children would choose violence over peace."

Then, she turned and headed upstairs. Tim sighed, glancing at his children before following his wife. "_Abba_-" But Tim ignored his daughter, brushing past her as she tried to reach out for him. Devin shook her head.

"_Ye_ don't know_ 'ow_ lucky_ ye_ are, Zipporah." Devin whispered, tears in her eyes. "_'twould kill t' 'ave me Da_ back." Then, she went to Asher, giving him a quick kiss before leaving. Once she was gone, Asher got up, fixing a cup of tea. He moved past his sister, shaking her off when she reached out to him, leaving her alone in the kitchen.


	28. Chapter 28

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

The little boy rushed to his mother, throwing his arms around her when he got close enough. Sarah Werth laughed, scooping her son into her embrace. In the nearly three years that had passed since her brother and his family had moved to Ireland, Sarah's small family had expanded- her and Damon's son, Rónán Beau, who's name meant "beautiful little seal"- had been born when Maura was two, and Sarah found that her second pregnancy and birth had been easier, like Ziva had said.

She turned at voices, to see Tali step out onto the back porch, Esther with her, telling her some story about school. Since their siblings had moved to Ireland, Sarah and Tali had grown closer, turning to each other when they needed the comfort, or just when they wanted to talk. They shared the same fears, the same worries, regarding their loved ones in Ireland. "Sarit! Gibbs is here!"

She quickly settled her son on her hip and hurried to join Tali. Afternoons at the Delacroix home had been a regular occurrence for the families since Tim and Ziva had fled the country, and often times, the team would join them for lunch or dinner. But when Sarah stepped into the house today, she found not only Gibbs and the team there, but a man she didn't recognize and a woman who looked suspiciously like she could be Ziva's twin. "Um... Tali, what's going on?"

"Sarah." She turned as Gibbs spoke up. "This is Agent Pride from the New Orleans office and Agent O'Reilly, from the Seattle office." Sarah furrowed her brow.

"Okay... but..." Gibbs reached out, and the little boy launched himself into the older man's arms, as his mother put her hands on her hips. "What's this about, Gibbs?" The older man sighed.

"They've been helping us on the weapons smuggling case we're working on-"

"The one in Ireland?" He nodded. "We just... we need to know if you've talked to Tim and Ziver lately." Sarah shook her head.

"No, sorry-" But suddenly Tali's laptop pinged and the doctor rushed to it. She quickly pulled up Skype, finding Asher on the other end. The boy was sitting on his bed, and he looked like he'd been crying.

"Asher, sweetheart, what's wrong?" He gave her a small smile.

"Zippa joined the IUFI, Tali _Doda. Abba_ isn't speaking to her, and_ Ima's_ given up on her, the _whole family is falling apart_-"

"Whoa, slow down, sweetheart." She quickly beckoned Gibbs over; he'd set the little boy down by then, and rushed over, with the others. The boy either didn't notice them or didn't care at that moment, as he told them everything- from confronting his siblings after school to Ziva's severe reaction, to Tim's losing his temper. When he was done, he sniffled, swiping at his eyes.

"What do I do?" Gibbs closed his eyes briefly; he felt for the kid, and all he wanted at that moment was to be there, calming the boy's fears.

"Asher, look at me." Gibbs said finally, gently moving Tali out of the way. He waited until he had the boy's attention. "Keep a close eye on your parents and your sister, okay?" He nodded. "If anything else comes up, you call one of us- either Agent Pride in New Orleans, Agent O'Reilly in Seattle, or Tony and Bishop in London, if you can't get me, okay?" Asher nodded. "You keep close watch on your sister too. She may have gotten herself into this mess, but she still needs you; just like your parents do. And if you ever want to talk, we're all here, we'll listen." The boy nodded. "You're doin' good, kid. Hang in there, okay? You hang in there."

Once the boy hung up, Gibbs turned to the others. He glanced at O'Reilly. "Call Tony and Bishop. Tell them the new developments, and start working out a rough plan with the FBI and CIA." The woman nodded.

"Um, Agent Gibbs, wha' about the-"

"You don't tell any of the other agencies until you, Tony and Bishop have a rough plan, we clear?" She nodded, rushing off. Once she and Pride were gone- cause he'd gone with her to help- Gibbs turned back to the two women. Sarah sniffled, tears racing down her cheeks.

"What do we do now, Gibbs?" She asked, choking on a sob. "What if something happens to my brother?" He pulled Sarah into a hug, before turning to Tali and letting the other girl curl into his other side.

"They'll be okay, Sarah. And we'll figure this out. We'll get to the bottom of this, I promise." He whispered, pressing a kiss to each woman's head.

* * *

Asher lay back on his bed when Gibbs ended the call. He covered his eyes with his arm, choking on a sob. He didn't hear the bedroom door open, and didn't look up when he felt someone sit on the bed beside him. "I'm sorry you had to see _Ima_ like that today, sweetheart." Tim gently laid a hand on his son's knee. The boy swallowed thickly, before sitting up and looking at his father.

"She's _destroyed our family, Abba_. She's hurt _Ima_ and you and... and she doesn't even care." Tim sighed.

"She does care, sweetheart, she's just... just gotten caught up in... in fancy promises and the thrill of adventure. It's alluring, believe me, I've been there, but... she'll learn. When she's staring down the barrel of a gun that isn't hers, and she can't think of a way out of it, then she'll realize how wrong she is. It'll take time, but she'll learn, and if she has to, she'll learn the hard way." Asher swallowed, scooting towards his father.

"Abba?" There... there's this... march that's... that's going to be taking place in... in Dublin, but it... it starts in the Southside, and... and works its way up to... to Dublin. It's a... a peace march... to... to hopefully... stop the... the violence. You know, like... like Dr. King did in... in America... I... I was wondering if... if I could go with Devin..."

"When is it?" Asher swallowed.

"Two months." Tim studied his son for a moment, before getting up and leaving his room. "So... can I go?"

"K_en_, you may go."


	29. Chapter 29

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Tim looked up as Asher came bounding down the stairs, dressed in a pair of jeans and a dark green button-down, his dark curls bounding with him, slightly disheveled. "Whoa, slow down, sweetheart." Tim closed the work he'd finished and put it away, before turning to the chapter he was working on for his novel, accepting the coffee Ziva set in front of him before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind and rested her chin on his head. "What's the rush?"

"Devin's here, Abba." Tim nodded as Asher rushed to answer the door. The girl stepped into the house, her bag on her shoulder. The kids had asked their parents if they could spend a little time in Dublin after the march, maybe go to lunch and go window-shopping. They'd been given permission, and Asher was excited; there were bookstores he wanted to visit, little hole-in-the-wall shops he hadn't had a chance to see yet.

"You two want coffee before you go?" Ziva asked; she seemed to be doing better now that two months had passed. Things in the McGee household had turned colder since Zipporah's betrayal- a betrayal of her parents' trust- and though they kept a close eye on the girl, both took what she told them with a heavy grain of salt. Devin nodded, removing her bag from her shoulder and taking a seat at the table.

"Thank_ ye_, Mrs. McGee." She whispered, as Ziva set a cup of coffee with sugar and cream in front of the girl. The four sat in silence before Devin asked, "Are_ ye_ okay, Mrs. McGee?" Ziva met the girl's gaze, eyebrows raised. She thought a moment, taking a deep breath.

"I am okay. I am doing okay." She gave Devin a small smile, before going to her husband and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Her dark eyes scanned the paragraph and she grinned, whispering softly to him. "This is... wonderful, Tim." He met her gaze, smiling as she leaned over and captured his lips in a soft kiss. When she pulled away, she ducked her head, burying her face in his shoulder as she caught her son's eye. "Go on you two, you have a march to attend. Have fun." The two got up; Asher went to his parents, pressing a kiss to his father's cheek before doing the same to his mother's. "Call us as soon as you get to Dublin, to let us know everything's all right."

"I will,_ Ima. Aní ohév otákh_." Ziva whispered the words back to him, watching with a soft smile as the two left. She returned to Tim, slipping into his lap and resting her forehead to his.

"What's wrong, Zi?" She sighed, deeply.

"I have bad feeling about this, Tim. Something doesn't feel right." He pulled away, meeting her gaze.

"I'm sure everything will be fine, Zi." She swallowed.

"I hope you're right." He kissed her; nudging his nose against hers.

"It'll be okay."

* * *

The marchers came from all over the Republic, some coming as far as the border with Northern Ireland to take part on the day of the march.

With the chill in the air, they all wore coats, some carried cameras, others video cameras, and almost all carried their phones. The march would be broadcast on national and international TV- a show that peace was wanted among the people of the republic, and could be achieved if let.

They'd march to City Hall in Dublin, a peaceful protest against the violence that had shaken their homeland to the core. As it began, the marchers talked and laughed, telling jokes and exchanging stories as they walked; some carried signs, but most just walked, enjoying the warm air and the sunshine, unaware of the barricades they would face, set up at the end of Parnell Square.

At one point, Asher took out his phone, shooting video of the event, taking in the laughter of several of his friends as they made faces at the camera. He called his father, telling him it was going well, and asking if he and Ziva were watching the march on the news. His father had told him that while they weren't watching, they did have it on in the living room, and were listening to it, finishing up their work in the kitchen.

"Devin, smile!" She laughed, waving at him as they continued walking. "This is amazing. I... I've never done something like this before..." He took her hand, squeezing gently. "I love you!" She laughed, but shook her head, unable to hear him over the chatter of the crowd. He leaned close. "I said I love you!"

She looked up at him, grinning, before leaning close and kissing him.

It was as the marchers reached Parnell that everything went to Hell. Shots rang out before the sound of an explosion rang within the air. Screams suddenly ripped through the crowd; people began to scatter, and Asher found himself capturing the chaos on tape. People shoved, scrambled and rushed for cover as more shots rang out, ripping through people, leaving bodies scattered on the road. He saw Eamon, one of his friends on the curling team at school, go down as a bullet ripped through his stomach, and as he watched, someone rushed to help, only to be shot themselves.

He watched another person go down, followed by several others. People rushed to the aid of those hit, some helped others get away, some just lay on the ground, playing dead if they weren't already. He saw a woman, rushing to help carry one of the wounded out of the street, her white dressed stained with blood. Not thinking, Asher rushed to help, seeing a girl go down, but before he could get to her, he felt something rip through him, followed by a burning sensation. He stumbled, grabbing his chest as he collapsed, the phone falling from his hand, still recording the chaos, the screams, and pleas for mercy.


	30. Chapter 30

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Time for a wakeup call... oh, and the woman in the white dress mentioned in the last chapter, she's important later on.**

Barely conscious, Asher felt someone kneeling over him, could vaguely hear voices. _"We 'ave t' get 'im t' the 'ospital! 'E'll bleed t' death if we don't!"_

And then, he felt someone lift him up, carry him, as the blood spread over his chest. Someone pressed their hand to his wound, and he whimpered. "Shh, hush, love. 'Twill be all right. Ye hang in there."

Emma O'Donnell kept her hand pressed to the boy's chest, as she and two other good Samaritans carried the injured boy through the streets. She kept talking to him, kept whispering to him, and only stopped, when her companion, the one holding onto the boy's legs, spoke up. _"Damn IUFI!"_

She looked up as a man rushed to them; he helped direct them to an ambulance- the police had been called, as well as paramedics and EMTs._ "Come on, this way! This way!"_ Instantly, he pulled out a handkerchief- or was it a scarf?- white, raising it and waving. The members of the IUFI who'd fired refused to let them pass, but one of them- a young girl, it seemed- gave the order.

"Oh God!" She rushed towards them, recognizing the person. _"Oh God, that's my brother! That's my big brother!"_ None of the others spoke, but the girl pushed her way through the barricade of her fellow cohorts, holding tight to the man's other hand. He continued to hold out the white material, and at one point the girl stopped, talking to someone- a boy about her age. He nodded, rushing off before returning.

The next thing they knew, they were being helped to an ambulance, where paramedics soon took over. Emma watched the girl and the boy with her. She was sobbing, the front of her shirt spattered in blood, and shaking violently. _"Ye're 'is_ sister?" She asked, not trusting the girl.

_"Ken. Yes. I didn't know he'd be here. I didn't want him to get hurt!"_ She broke down, dropping to the pavement, rocking back and forth. After they loaded him into the ambulance, one of the medics turned to the girl.

"_Ye_ said _ye_ were_ 'is_ sister?" She nodded. "Come on, then." The boy helped her to her feet, pushing her forward.

"I'll call_ yer_ parents." She nodded once, before climbing into the ambulance. But before the doors closed, the girl turned back to the four.

"_Toda... thank you_." Emma nodded, watching as the girl took a seat beside her brother and took his hand.

* * *

The hospital doors slammed; patients and doctors alike were forced to get out of the way of the Israeli hurricane rushing through the lobby, headed straight for the receptionist. "Where is he? Where is my son?" The woman looked up, surprised by the disheveled state of the younger woman.

"Who are you looking for, Miss-"

"McGee. _Ziva McGee_. My son is here. _Asher._ He was... he was brought in with a... a bullet wound to the chest..."

"Mr. _an'_ Mrs. McGee?" The couple turned, to see Emma O'Donnell climb to her feet. Ziva choked on a sob, burying her face in her husband's shoulder. The woman's dress was covered in blood- her son's blood. "I.. I'm Emma O'Donnell, I... I helped carry_ yer_ son _ou' o'_ the... the chaos today." Tim wrapped his arm around his wife's waist, extending his other hand.

"Timothy, and this is my wife, Ziva. Thank you. I... I don't know how we'll _ever_ be able to repay you." Emma shook his hand.

"No need._ Jus'... jus'_ take care of them... I... I met a girl in the IUFI... she said she was his... his sister. She _mus'_ be_, 'cause_ she looks like _ye_, Mrs. McGee." Then, she pulled out a slip of paper, handing it to Tim. "If _ye_ ever need _anythin'_, let me know." And then, with a soft smile, she left. Tim turned to his wife, confused.

"Was she talking-"

"_Abba? Ima_?" The pair turned; Zipporah stood in the hallway, eyes red and puffy, tears racing down her cheeks. Her shirt was spattered with blood, and she had a streak of it across her forehead. But it was her green gaze that caught Ziva's breath in her throat. Her daughter's green eyes were haunted, hollow, filled with pain and fear. A moment passed, before she rushed to them, throwing her arms around her parents' waists, burying her face in her mother's chest. She burst into sobs, holding tight to them, and after sharing a glance, Ziva reached down and lay her hand on her daughter's head.

"Zipporaleh, what are you doing here?" A moment passed, before the girl was able to pull away and looked up at her mother, choking on a sob.

"Those people were carrying Brother and... and one of them was... waving a white scarf and... and others... they wouldn't let them through." She said, telling her parents about how she'd basically stood up to the section leader in charge of the attack. _"I told him... he was my brother... that they were carrying my brother... he had blood on his chest, Ima! What if he dies?"_ She burrowed into Ziva again, sobbing harder. Her mother glanced at Tim, who sighed.

* * *

He couldn't lose his son; he _couldn't_ lose Asher. He'd gone eight years without the boy in his life, and since Ziva had brought the boy into his life, he'd done all that was humanly possible to make sure the boy knew he was loved, that Tim hadn't left his mother because he wanted to. He took a deep breath, burying his face in his hands as he sat in the waiting room near the trauma ward, waiting for news of his son. Ziva had taken Zipporah to get cleaned up, leaving Tim with his thoughts. Folding his hands, he covered his mouth with them, eyes shut tight, begging for his son to be all right, as tears slid down his cheeks.

When he looked up again, it was to someone holding a cup of coffee out to him. He met the person's eyes, accepting the coffee silently as Enya took a seat beside him. "Thanks." She nodded, studying him. "What are you doing here?"

She swallowed. "Devin was _'it_. Doctor said... the bullet entered _'er_ thigh _an'... an'_ exited her back... _'er_ spine was... still intact..._ bu'..._ they aren't sure_ 'ow... 'ow _much damage_..._ she's in surgery..." He reached out, taking her hand.

"I'm so sorry, Enya." She gave him a watery smile, choking on a sob.

"I _canna_ lose Devin. She is all I_ 'ave _left..." She laid her head on Tim's shoulder, and he pulled her closer, letting her cry. When he looked up, Ziva stood with their daughter, tears running down her cheeks.


	31. Chapter 31

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Um... to the reviewer who told me the plot of my whole story was "so full of nonsense it is not even funny"... thank you? If you don't like it, why the HELL did you read it? **** I've had a bad enough day as is, and that review just made my already bad day worse, not to mention it pissed me off. Sorry; back to the story. **

**Thanks to puppypants for reviewing 27 and 29; mcgeeksgirl and silvermoon217 for reviewing 30; Reader for reviewing 27, 28, 29 and 30.**

Of the two teenagers, Devin was the first to wake up- for Asher was still in surgery, and she was still groggy from the second, emergency surgery they had to perform- and immediately, she asked about Asher. They had been holding hands when an explosion ripped through the crowd further down from where they were. She didn't remember how they ended up getting separated, or even remember being hit. Ziva had gone with Enya; Tim had promised to send Zipporah if they heard anything, and silently, the Israeli went to the younger girl, taking her hand. "Asher was hit, Devin. He's in... he's in surgery. Wound to the chest." She struggled to keep her emotions in, biting her lip.

"Will _'e_ be all _righ_'?"

Ziva swallowed. "I don't know." A moment passed, before Devin squeezed her hand.

"_'e_ has_ t'_ be." She said, catching Ziva's gaze. "_'e_ still_ 'as t'_ teach me_ 'ebrew_." Ziva chuckled softly. It had been a running joke between the kids and their friends- that hanging out at the McGee household was an unexpected language lesson- because Ziva's first language was Hebrew, and Asher had grown up speaking it, before she had taught him English, there was more Hebrew spoken at the McGee residence than English at times. Keavy, Liam and Devin had each learned some, picking it up from listening to Ziva, but all wanted to learn it fluently, to be able to hold conversations. Ziva squeezed the girl's hand firmly, taking a deep breath.

"He will be. My son is a fighter. He will fight to stay alive. I know he will. He would not leave his father and I, nor his siblings, no matter the choices they made." She sniffled, chuckling softly. "Asher does not have permission to die, as my former boss would say." Then, she stood, leaning over and pressing a kiss to the girl's forehead.

"Zi." She turned, to see Tim in the doorway. He had tears in his eyes, and he was taking deep breaths, as though he'd rushed to get her. She stared at him, allowing him to catch his breath. "He's out of surgery." She turned back to Enya and Devin, giving them both soft smiles before Enya nodded. Ziva went to the other woman, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Tell _'im 'ello_ for me." Enya whispered, and Ziva replied that she would before joining her husband and taking his hand, allowing him to pull her out of the room and back to the trauma ward.

* * *

Zipporah looked up at the sound of feet as her parents rushed towards her; tears slid down her cheeks. "Mr. _an'_ Mrs. McGee? I'm Dr. O'Brien." The doctor turned from the girl, meeting her parents' eyes. "_Yer_ son is _ou' o'_ surgery, and_ restin'_ in _th'_ ICU."

"Oh thank God." Ziva buried her face in her husband's shoulder, Tim wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her close. "Will he be okay?" She choked out, tears in her eyes.

_"'Tis_ too soon _t'_ tell, Mrs. McGee. The bullet struck an _art'ry_ in_ 'is 'eart_. We were able_ t'_ get it_ startin'_ again,_ bu' 'e_ did die on _th'_ table."

"But you brought him back, right?" Zipporah asked, lower lip quivering. The doctor turned to her.

"_Aye._ The bullet tore an _art'ry_; we _'ad t'_ completely replace the damaged _art'ry wit'_ a new one. These _nex'_ twenty-four hours will be crucial-"

"Can we see him?" Ziva interrupted, tightening her grip on Tim's bicep. The doctor nodded. "Please?"

"Of course." The woman led the trio down the hall to an elevator, and then upstairs to the ICU ward. She stopped in front of a room, gently pushing the door open. "_'e's restin'_ now, _bu'_ I'm sure_ 'e'd_ be_ 'appy t'_ see_ ye_. Take _yer_ time."

They thanked her, before slipping into the room and silently shutting the door. Ziva choked on a sob; her son, her baby boy, was lying still in the bed, hooked up to wires and tubes, with a nose cannula to help him breathe. Taking a deep breath, Ziva perched lightly on the edge of the bed, reaching out and taking Asher's hand. She studied her son, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks; he was so pale, so small, that she didn't recognize him. This wasn't her son; this wasn't the baby boy she'd carried for nine months in Israel, that she'd raised for eight years alone, that had been so eager to push his parents together when they arrived in America to find Tim.

"Hey baby boy, it's _Ima. Abba_ and I came as soon as we heard. And Sister is here, too. We're here, we're right here, and we aren't going anywhere." She reached out, brushing her fingers through his curls. "We love you, and we aren't going to let you go." Tim joined her, gently brushing his fingers over his son's cheek.

"If Mr. Gibbs were here, you know what he would say, sweetheart?" Tim asked, glancing at his wife. Zipporah watched as her father leaned close to her brother, his lips brushing the boy's ear. "I didn't give you permission to die." He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to Asher's curls. "And I'm not giving you permission either."

* * *

As Tim and Ziva headed down to the cafeteria, they stopped by Devin's room to see if either her or Enya wanted anything. "No thank_ ye_, Ziva." Enya replied, turning back to Devin.

"How's she doing?" Tim asked, joining the other woman as Ziva went to the other side and gently brushed the girl's hair off her forehead. Enya sighed.

"She's..." But she stopped when Devin grunted softly, glancing at Ziva. "_Wha'_ is it, Devi, love?" The girl didn't reply for a moment; she struggled to sit up and lean forward, and gently, Ziva adjusted the bed. The girl thanked her softly, before leaning forward, but she was unable reach the area where the blanket was bunched up. Ziva reached down to help, but Devin shook her head, wanting to do it herself.

"I _canna _reach..."

"Maybe if you bend your legs, it'll un-" Devin ignored Ziva and continued to try to move her legs, her feet, but stopped after several minutes.

"I... I_ canna_ feel... _me_ legs, _Ma_..." She glanced from her mother to Tim and Ziva and back, horror lighting her eyes. "Why..._ canna_ I... _Why canna I feel me legs_?"


	32. Chapter 32

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: I've just joined ArchiveofOurOwn, under the name MossadHuntinDog (A Ziva reference) but I haven't posted anything yet. I have a couple works I want to post there soon, though, that will also be posted here.**

**A/N: And yes, I know, I gave Devin Delilah's injury, blame it on the muse... the stupid muse that only wants to focus on this story right now and nothing else... but anyway, there's a reason _why_...**

Tim shut the door softly behind them. Enya told them to head home and get cleaned up; she'd stay with Asher until they got back. Zipporah rushed off to her room, to change into clean clothes, and Ziva went into the kitchen, feeding Jethro before grabbing a glass and filling it with water. Tim quickly checked the messages on the phone, but he was soon interrupted by the glass shattering as it hit the floor. His head snapped up in time to see Jethro bolt into the living room, tail between his legs, and he quickly rushed into the kitchen.

Ziva was sitting on the kitchen floor amid the broken glass, arms wrapped tight around herself, choking on sobs.

"Oh, Zi, baby." Tim rushed to her, and, being careful of the glass, helped his wife to her feet. Zipporah, now changed into fresh clothes, and carrying her backpack with some things to keep her occupied at the hospital, came down the stairs, in time to see Tim wrap her mother in his arms. She watched as he held her close, gently rubbing her back. "It'll be okay, Zi. He's out of surgery, Dr. O'Brien said he's responding well to the transplant and that's a good sign. It's a good sign, baby. Remember that."

Ziva held tight to him, sobs wracking her body. Slowly, Zipporah stepped into the kitchen, unsure of what to say. But she didn't get the chase to speak as someone knocked on the door and she rushed to answer it. "Liam. What..." The boy swallowed, shifting nervously on his feet, as though afraid to be there.

"I... I'm sorry, Zip, I... I shouldn't be-" Zipporah glanced over her shoulder, Tim met her gaze. He nodded for the girl to let him in, and after a moment, she shut the door softly behind him, taking his hand. She tugged him gently towards her parents, but Tim had gone back to trying to calm Ziva down. "I... I'm so sorry, Mr. _an'_ Mrs. McGee. We... we _dinna_ know we were..._ tha' it... tha'_ they weren't... _tha' 'twas gonna_ be a... a peace march... we... we _though'..._ they said... _'twas gonna_ be... supporters_ o' th'... th'_ ARBI... I... I _dinna_ know_ 'twas_ a peace march until Zip_ tol'_ me Asher was_ 'urt_. I... _I'm so sorry_..."

Tim shook his head. "It's not your fault, Liam. You're just following the orders groups like that give. Unfortunately, orders like those are never clear, and it's always the innocents that end up getting hurt in the end." Liam nodded, unable to take his eyes off Ziva.

* * *

Zipporah held tight to Liam's hand. Back at the hospital, Tim had dropped Ziva, Zipporah and Liam off at Asher's room; he was going to go check on Enya, to see if she needed anything. Gently, Ziva pushed open the door to her son's room; Zipporah glanced at Liam, before slowly following. Before, Zipporah had hidden in the hallway, behind the door, watching her parents from afar; she didn't feel like a member of the family, and from her reasoning, she didn't deserve to be in the room with her parents.

Now, she still thought she didn't belong in the family, but Liam had gently pushed her in with a squeeze of her hand. The sight of her brother, lying so still, hooked to monitors and machines, breathing with a cannula, drugged on sedatives to help his body heal and adjust to the new artery, scared her. She choked on a sob, dropping onto the bed beside her brother. Reaching out a hand, she suddenly pulled back, frightened. But her own guilt won out, and she leaned over, laying her head on his shoulder, sobbing as the reality of the side she'd chosen hit her. _"I'm sorry, Brother. I'm so sorry..."_

* * *

_Paralyzed._

Her daughter was paralyzed from the waist down. Maybe not permanently; maybe only _temporarily_, but _still_, she was_ paralyzed_.

She looked up as Tim held out a fresh cup of coffee, and after a moment, she took it with a small smile. He sat beside her, sipping his own coffee. "So what did the doctors say?" Enya swallowed, staring into her cup.

"Paralyzed." Tim swallowed, sighing. "From_ th'_ waist down. They... they think _tha'_... she's young_ an'_ strong enough _tha'... tha' _she could... she could regain_ feelin' an'... an'_ walk again..._ bu'... bu'_ _'tis_ up_ t'_ her... _'twill _be a long road before_ tha' 'appens_. _An'_ until it does... until it does, she_ 'as t'_ get used_ t'_ a wheelchair..." She took a deep breath. _"Tha'_... _tha'_ the majority of her spine _'tis_ still intact, _an' ther'fore_, she _'as_ a good chance _o' regainin' th' 'bility t'_ walk again... when _she_ is ready,_ an' no'_ before. _Bu'_ for now... for now, she makes_ th'_ best. For now, she counts_ 'er blessin's_ she's alive."

"I'm so sorry, Enya." She nodded, meeting his gaze.

"_An'_ Asher? _'ow_ is _'e_?"

"He... he _died_ on the operating table... they brought him back... and they... they had to replace the artery that was damaged, but they... they think he'll be okay. It just... it all depends on tonight and if he..." Tim stopped, taking a deep breath. "If we lose... it'll destroy Ziva. We've already been through so much... Liron running off and... Zipporah joining the IUFI... I'm afraid if Asher dies, then... then it will be the final straw... the one that breaks her back."

She reached over, taking his hand. Giving him a small smile, she whispered,

"_'E_ will be okay. I_ 'ave_ faith _tha'_ they will both be okay."


	33. Chapter 33

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: "I have _other_ stories- not just in this category, but others like_ Eureka_ and _Wicked_\- that need to be finished or written, and you're messing around with this one." The MUSE: *Sticks fingers in ears, crosses eyes and blows raspberries* "I_ hate_ you."**

**Thanks to puppypants for reviewing 31; mcgeeksgirl for reviewing 32; Reader for reviewing 31 and 32. **

He glanced down, catching sight of the ID on his phone; Enya's gaze followed, and she reached out, giving him a small smile. "Go on. I'm no' goin' anywhere." Tim nodded, getting up and heading further down the hall before answering.

"_'Ello_?"

"Hey Agent McGee?" Tim sighed, rolling his eyes.

Bishop. He didn't mind the girl, but there were days when she just rubbed him the wrong way; and her timing always seemed to be off.

"What do you want, Bishop?" He asked, not bothering to correct her slip.

"Um, I... I was wondering if we could-" As she continued to ramble on, Tim pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. He didn't have the energy, nor the patience to deal with her willing-to-help-everybody high-strung attitude, not with Asher in the hospital, Zipporah's guilt trip and Liron's going_ AWOL_; the whole family was _FUBAR_ at the moment.

"Listen, Bishop, I'm not in the mood, nor am I in the correct frame of mind to deal with _whatever the hell_ it is you want right now. Okay? My son is in the-"

"Hey, McGee! What's a'matter?" Tony's excited voice came on over the phone, and Tim took a deep breath. "What's wrong? Bishop said that you-"

"Have you watched the news, Tony? There was a peace march going to Dublin, and the IUFI set off a few explosions and shot at the marchers. Asher was hit in the chest. They had to replace an artery in his heart, and he's in the ICU. They said he'll be fine, but..." He took a deep breath.

"God, Tim, I'm so sorry-"

"Thanks." He glanced back at Enya. "Listen Tony, can we talk later? I just..."

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine. Go be with your family. They need you right now. Tell Ziva hello for me. And tell Asher I've found a signed copy of Du Maurier's_ Rebecca_ waiting for him when he's up to it." Tim chuckled.

"I'll tell him. Thanks, Tony." Once they'd hung up, Tim returned to Enya- who'd gone to check on her daughter- and after a moment, the woman pushed him towards Devin's room.

"She wants_ t'_ see _ye_." Tim nodded, squeezing her hand before heading down the hall. When he poked his head in, he found Devin staring out the window, lost in thought.

"Hey, you asked for me?" She turned, giving Tim a small smile before nodding. "So..."

"_'ow_ did _ye_ get _throug' th' beatin' yer Da_ gave _ye_? Asher told me." She said, as Tim took a seat on the edge of her bed. She took a deep breath, reaching for his hand. He let her small hand slide into his, and gently, he brushed his thumb over her knuckles, like he would do with his children to calm them. He sighed.

"What he did to me and my sister, it just made me want to be a better person. I focused on the good I could do, on how I could break the cycle with my children. I started to look at the scars on my back as a... a badge of courage, I guess you could say. I began to realize that what my father did to me was because of how he was raised, and the violence he witnessed- growing up in Northern Ireland- had shaped and molded him in the only way it knew how. It's all about seeing a horrible situation, and wanting to rise above it and change the course of it. Making sure it doesn't repeat itself; that it is the last of its kind. When my father went after my sister and I, I decided that I was going to be the one to break that cycle. Me. And I have."

Devin swallowed, meeting his gaze. "So ye... broke the cycle?" Tim nodded. "So... so wha' do I do?"

He sighed, studying the girl. "You focus on getting better. On regaining your strength, and when it's time for you to walk again, you'll be able to put all the strength you possibly can into relearning how to walk. But until that day, you rest and regain your strength, okay?" She nodded. "I'll tell Asher you're expecting to see him when he wakes up." He then leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead before standing, but Devin tightened her grip on his hand. He turned back.

"Mr. McGee?" He met her gaze. "I..._ I'ma_ sorry... if... if I'd known... Asher _an'_ I _nev'r_..." But all Tim did was squeeze her hand.

"It's okay. Not your fault, Devin."

* * *

Tim slipped down to the cafeteria to get coffee; Ziva had refused to leave Asher's side, and Zipporah was hiding out in the bathroom, most likely trying to come to terms with her actions. As he filled two cups, he heard a couple nurses enter behind him, making a beeline for the coffee. A part of him screamed to leave before he overheard the conversation they were having, but he didn't move; he couldn't, for the conversation they were having chilled him to the bone.

"... they're _sayin'_ there could be_ 'undreds_ wounded..."

"_An'_ near as many dead, _'twouldn't_ put it _pas' th'_ IUFI..." Tim took a deep breath.

"They're_ a'ready callin'_ it Bloody Monday, an'-"

"Equating it to _Domhnach na Fola." _Both women turned to him; Tim recognized the one closest to him as one of the nurses who checked on Asher, and she nodded. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No,_ ye're_ all_ righ', _Mr McGee_. An' aye, th'_ papers are_ a'ready callin'_ it 'The Massacre at Parnell Square.'" Tim swallowed, cringing.

"Two of my children were involved in that massacre," Tim replied. "My son was involved in the peace march, and my daughter made the stupid decision to join the IUFI." The nurse closest to him reached out and gently squeezed his arm. "My son is fighting for his life... I won't allow him to become a martyr to this violence."

"_Yer_ son is strong, Mr. McGee. _'e_ will pull through._ 'ave_ faith."


	34. Chapter 34

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: There's a reason for this chapter... Asher needs a little reassurance...**

"Listen to me, baby boy, you are strong, you hear me? You are stronger than this, you will fight. I didn't bring you into this world to lose you now, to lose you like this." Ziva sniffled, quickly brushing a strand of hair off her forehead, before tangling the fingers of her other hand in her son's. She squeezed firmly, before moving closer. She studied him, trailing her fingers over her son's cheek.

They had survived so much, she and Asher, over the years. From always looking over their shoulders in Israel, to the calm and contentment in America, to now, they'd witnessed a lot, and managed to pull through. She had to believe that her son would survive this- after losing both Liron and Zipporah to opposite sides of the violence- because if she didn't, she'd go insane. And if he didn't... if he didn't survive, if he didn't fight, she didn't know what she'd do.

"That is _not_ why I defied my father. I didn't lose you then, and I _won't_ lose you now, my angel." She choked on a sob, struggling to keep from breaking down. This was her_ son_, she'd already lost her daughter and her other son to the violence in the republic, she couldn't lose Asher too. Gently, she reached up, tracing his features. He got his beautiful looks from his father, thank God...

"_Abba_ and I.. we aren't going to allow you to give up. We won't. And neither will you." She looked up as Tim held out a cup of coffee, and after a moment, she took it, setting it on the table before getting up and wrapping her arms around her husband's neck. Tim set his own cup down and held her close, pressing a kiss to her neck with a whispered,

"He'll be okay, Zi. He's our son, he spent a good portion of his childhood around Gibbs, if anything was drilled into his head more, it was that he's not allowed to give up." Ziva buried her face in her husband's shoulder, choking on her tears. "He won't. He's strong, he'll pull through."

* * *

A scream brought the boy from his sleep, and his eyes snapped open. As he stumbled to his feet, he found himself back in Parnell Square; the stench of gunpowder and chemicals were strong, as was the scent of blood. He could see bodies lying about the square, either burned from the blast, killed due to the explosion, or shot, like he had been. His gaze landed on a girl lying not far from him-

"Devin."

He rushed to her, kneeling by her side and reaching out to check her pulse. _"She can not hear you."_ He stopped. The voice sounded familiar; the last time he'd heard that voice had been in Be'er Sheva, before she left the house for a trip to Amman, a trip she never returned from. Slowly, he turned to look up, choking on his voice.

_"Savta?"_

Rivka gave her grandson a small smile, holding out her hands. _"Come here, my darling."_ After a moment, Asher went to her, frightened by the sight of his grandmother- he loved Rivka- but seeing her here- when she'd been dead for years- scared him._ "It is okay, darling. You will not hurt me."_ Rivka said, as Asher slowly reached out and touched her hand. Slowly, he took her fingers when he realized she wasn't a figment of his sleep-induced mind, and then threw his arms around her shoulders, burying his face in her neck.

"_Savta_... I miss you." Rivka held her grandson close, running her fingers through his hair.

_"I know. I miss you too. Both you and your Ima. So, so much."_ She pulled away to search his face. _"But you found Abba, and you have a brother and a sister. You look like him, like your Abba."_

Asher's eyes filled with tears, and he struggled to keep from crying. Rivka watched her grandson, her oldest, as he tried his hardest to be composed. She gently brushed the tears off his cheeks, giving him the time to gather his thoughts and calm down. He glanced over his shoulder, swallowing. "She..."

_"She cannot hear you here, darling."_ Rivka said. Slowly, Asher looked around._ "No one can hear you. Just me."_

"Where am I?" It looked like Parnell Square, where the march had been stopped, blocked by the IUFI. Strewn with bodies, smelling of blood and reeking of gunpowder. Broken glass and bits of wood and brick from the buildings that had exploded lay scattered about. He turned back to Rivka. "I... I don't understand." He took a deep breath. "Am I... am I... _dead_?"

Rivka shook her head, taking her grandson's face in her hands. _"No Asher, darling. You and her are still alive."_ She nodded towards Devin._ "She is a very pretty girl. Can you see yourself with her?"_ Asher turned back to where Devin lay.

"You mean like _Ima_ and _Abba_?" Rivka nodded. "I... I don't know. I... I guess, but..."

_"You sound like your mother._ _There were times when she was pregnant with you, and even after you were born, when she would doubt that... that your father really loved her. That he just got her pregnant because he could, and that he was living a wonderful life in America, not even thinking about her or wondering about the baby she carried."_ Rivka sighed._ "I asked her if she could imagine a life where she found the father of her baby, where she lived in America, happy. If she was... willing to imagine a world where she was safe, a life where she was protected. I told her to imagine that life, and to keep that image in her head, and fight for it. Everything little thing she did, would mean she was one step closer to the life she dreamed about."_

Gently, she brushed her grandson's dark curls off his forehead. _"And that is what I want you to do, Asher, darling. Imagine you are home with your family, that you are out with your friends, with her."_ Rivka nodded towards Devin._ "Imagine you are with them, and fight for it. Fight to go back; your parents, your siblings, and she... they need you, Asher. Fight for them. You are my daughter's child; stubbornness is in your blood. And so is the desire to fight. So fight, darling."_

He shook his head. "But_ I miss you_..." She wrapped him in her arms, as he lay his head on her shoulder, soft sobs shaking his shoulders. Gently, she rubbed his back.

_"I know. And I miss you, darling. And I wish I could have met your brother and sister. You have grown into a fine young man, just like your father."_ She pressed a kiss to his head, before pulling away. _"I promise, I will always be with you, darling."_


	35. Chapter 35

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to puppypants and mcgeeksgirl for reviewing 33; and Reader for reviewing 33 and 34. **

She swallowed, waiting for the cup to fill, breathing in the strong scent of coffee. She'd sat beside Asher's bed, holding his hand and talking to him, reminding him of all the good things they'd gone through. Of how they'd found Tim, made a life for themselves in America, how they'd finally become a family. She took a deep breath, telling herself that her son would be fine, that he would survive this, that he'd pull through and make a full recovery. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she struggled not to break down.

_"Ima! Ima!"_

_She rushed into the bedroom; he was sitting on the floor by the bed, holding Mr. Bunny Rabbit. "Asher, what is wrong, my angel?" Quickly, she ran to him, dropping on her knees by the bed, in front of her son. "Hey, look at me, what is it?" The little boy coughed, holding the teddy bear closer. _

_"Not feel good." She gently reached up, brushing her hand over her three-year-old's forehead. He felt warm, maybe had a touch of fever. Silently, she scooped the little boy up before standing, holding her son close. Asher rested his head on her shoulder, and she could feel him shaking with chills, even as he burned up from fever. She quickly pulled the blankets down and leaned over to lay her son among the blankets of her bed. _

_"Ima! Ima, call the doctor! Hurry!" She sat on the edge as she tucked the blankets around her son. He looked up at his mother, bright green eyes dulled with sickness. Gently, she reached out, brushing his curls off his forehead. "I promise, my angel, everything will be okay. Ima is here. I am not going anywhere, I promise." She turned back to the bedroom door. "Ima! Ima, you need to call the doctor!"_

_"Ima is at the store, remember?" Her gaze snapped to Tali, who stood in the doorway. The girl's dark eyes slid over her sister and nephew. "Is something wrong, Zivaleh?" The young mother struggled to keep the panic from rising out of her stomach to her throat._

_"Tali, call the doctor. Asher's sick." She heard the girl rush off, before turning her focus back to her son. The boy whimpered, shaking, and gently, she continued to run her fingers through her son's soft curls. "Hush, my angel. Tali Doda is calling the doctor; he will be here soon." In this rural part of Be'er Sheva, the doctors and midwives still made house calls- something Ziva was grateful for those first months after Asher's birth. _

_The boy coughed, whimpering softly. "Ima..."_

_"Shh. Hush, my angel." After a moment, she climbed onto the bed, settling among the other pillows and pulling the boy into her arms. He laid his head on her chest, and Ziva gently ran her fingers through her son's curls. _

She snapped out of her thoughts when the machine shut off, and after a moment, she grabbed the cup and turned, fleeing from the machine before she broke down. Rounding the corner, she didn't notice the person she slammed into. "Oh God, I... I'm so sorry... I... I didn't see..."

"_'Tis_ all_ righ',_ Mrs. McGee." She looked up into Emma O'Donnell's bright eyes, even as the woman gave her a small smile. Ziva nodded, relieved to see that the lid of her cup had stayed secure, and slowly, she wrapped her hands around the warm cup, taking a deep breath. "_Ev'rythin' all righ'_, Mrs. McGee?_ 'Ow_ is _yer_ son?" Her head snapped up._ Ken_. Yes, um..." She bit her lip. "He is out of surgery... ah... he hasn't woken up yet, but..." Emma nodded, going to the young mother and slipping an arm through hers, listening as Ziva told her about everything that had happened since Asher had shown up in the hospital.

* * *

The first thing he noticed as his eyes slowly opened, was the sharp pain in his chest, followed by the strong scent of antiseptic, and the brightness of the typical white hospital walls; he swallowed slowly. When he moved his gaze, he found his father, gently draping his jacket over his mother- sound asleep and curled in a chair. His attempt to remain quiet failed, and he whimpered with each breath. His father's head snapped up, and he took a deep breath. Instantly, Tim rushed to his son's side.

"Asher? Asher, sweetheart... oh thank God, you're awake." He perched on the edge of his son's bed, taking his son's hand; Asher looked up, meeting his father's eyes. Tears swam within the green depths, and Tim took a deep breath. "You scared us, Asher." Gently, Tim took his son's face in his hands, studying his son's features, searching his eyes, half afraid this was all a dream, and he'd wake up, only to find his son still asleep in the bed; when he was satisfied with everything he'd found, he leaned over, pressing several kisses to his son's forehead. Tim took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as he pressed one last kiss to the boy's forehead, gently running his fingers through the dark curls. "Don't ever do that to us again, baby boy."

Asher nodded, noticing his father use the same two words his mother often used for him when she was upset or especially worried about him. On the chair, Ziva slowly shifted, waking up with a soft groan. Her dark eyes slowly opened, and she sat up cautiously, every muscle screaming thanks to the uncomfortable position she'd slept in. "Tim?" She shifted with a soft groan at the crick in her neck. "What's-" She stopped, watching as Tim pressed another kiss to his son's soft curls. "Asher? _Asher_?"


	36. Chapter 36

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Gibbs lifted Maura into his arms, pressing a kiss to the girl's head. The remaining members of the team were at Ducky's house, for their usual dinner, and he gently spun the girl around, before his gaze landed to the TV. He shifted the child to his hip, reaching for the remote and turning up the volume. The others were in the kitchen, talking over coffee. "_Hey! Quiet, all of you_!" Instantly, silence fell as the others joined him in the living room.

"Jethro, whatever is the matter?" But Gibbs waved Ducky away, never taking his gaze off the TV.

_"... saying that there are hundreds, possibly thousands wounded, if not dead... they say that the bombs were planted by Irish for a United Free Irish, a radical group who aims to reunite the North of Ireland with the Republic and remove it from British rule..."_

Images, video footage, of what started out as a peaceful march, the marchers- the majority of them teenagers or young adults- were chanting and laughing, as though they were at a party. The footage continued, the camera crews following as the marchers made their way through the streets. As they made their way to Parnell Square, chaos broke out.

A building exploded, sending debris and shrapnel everywhere; people began to flee, screaming. They all watched as shots were fired, as people fell, clutching their stomachs or stumbling from shots to the back. They all watched a young girl go down, and then watched as a group of people rushed to help; one of the men fell before he reached the girl, shot himself, the back of his head exploding.

"Who would do something like this?" Sarah asked, holding her son close and covering his eyes with her hand. The boy whimpered and pushed her hand away, but Sarah returned her hand to his eyes, wanting to spare him the nightmares.

Bullets picked off people as they ran, as they struggled to get away; screams broke the air and mixed with the ripple of gunfire. People stumbled, crawling along the cement, or lay still, feigning death, in the hopes that they would be spared. At one point, three men and a woman were caught on camera carrying a young boy in their arms; the woman, in her white dress, had her hand pressed firmly to the boy's chest. The priest- for everyone watching could tell it was a priest leading the way- waved a white scarf before him, keeping close to the group that carried the boy. As he continued to wave it, people saw that part of the scarf was stained red, most likely from being held to the boy's bleeding chest.

When they reached the barricade, a girl rushed forward, pushing through the IUFI guards barricading the marchers in. Her scream cut through the crowd, a scream both Sarah and Tali recognized instantly; a scream that only the team would recognize when they thought of it the next morning. _"That's my big brother! Oh God, Asher!"_

Ducky quickly changed the channel to another news station, but again, there was footage and news on the violence in Ireland. Tali covered her mouth with her hand, struggling to keep from crying as they watched people flee, as they watched the building explode before them.

"... officials are calling the Massacre at Parnell Square 'Bloody Monday,' and equating it to 'Bloody Sunday'- the January thirtieth nineteen-seventy-two massacre in Bogside, Derry, Northern Ireland, that resulted in the deaths of thirteen men and boys. Many victims have yet to be identified, and-" Ducky turned off the TV, and Tali took a deep breath.

"That girl... that girl was Zipporah, and... and the boy they were carrying... it was Asher, wasn't it?" She turned to Gibbs, dark eyes swimming in tears._ "Well?"_ Gibbs sighed; Tony had called him and told him the situation, asking him to keep it a secret until it was the right time to tell the others. He'd promised, but unfortunately, the right time would never come, and with Tali's dark gaze boring into his, he had no choice.

Slowly, the Team Leader nodded. "Yeah. Asher was participating the march and he got shot- bullet wound to the chest. It was the group Zipporah's joined that caused this."

Tali pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead, curling into herself for a moment. Meaning to comfort, Jackie Vance reached out to lay a hand on her back, but the young woman shot to her feet, quickly starting to pace. "Who would do that... who would shoot children like that? Block their escape and... and... and shoot... they are like... fish in a bucket..."

"Barrel, Tali." Sarah whispered softly, pressing a kiss to her son's head. Whenever the good doctor got flustered or upset, she often mixed up her idioms, much like her sister would do. "There's evil in Ireland..." Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she rested her cheek against her son's head. "And Tim and Ziva are at the center of it."

* * *

She glanced around, searching for the address written on the slip of paper. A month had passed since the march, since Asher and Devin had both ended up in the hospital, since Asher had been allowed to return home, since Devin had been confined to a wheelchair thanks to temporary paralysis. With the doctor's guidance, Asher had been allowed to return to Curling, but he was to take it easy on the rink.

But Devin had it harder than Asher; the loss of the use of her legs- even temporarily- had sent the girl into a state of depression. In between school and Curling practice, Asher spent time trying to get Devin to open up to him, but often, she would just give him a small smile and tell him she was fine. Enya had asked Tim and Ziva to help, and it wasn't uncommon for Tim to take the girl out for coffee so they could talk in private. Personally, Ziva was glad that Tim was so willing to take on the father-figure role for Devin- and it had taken great pressure off Enya- something the other woman constantly thanked them both for.

After a moment, she headed across the street, finding the number on the townhouse, and quickly, she knocked. It didn't take long for someone to answer. "_Canna_ I _'elp ye_?" The older woman asked, standing in the doorway. Ziva licked her lips nervously.

"Yes. Um... I'm looking for Emma O'Donnell. She... she was at the march about a month ago at Parnell Square and when my son was shot, she risked her life to get him to an ambulance. I just... I just wanted to thank her." But before she could say anymore, the woman started closing the door.

"There's no one_ 'ere_ by _tha'_ name."

"Wait, _please_." Ziva reached out, stopping her. The other woman studied the young mother, sighing.

"There is no Emma O'Donnell_ 'ere. 'Asn't_ been for... near forty years, at least."

"Did she move?" The woman shook her head.

"_Ye_ could say _tha_'."

"Well... where? I... I want to thank her-" But the woman cut her off, nodding to something further down the road.

"Keep_ goin' straigh'_ for _'nother_... three blocks. You'll come_ t'_ a field. There'll be a_ wrough'_ iron fence; go through the gate, move_ straigh'_ forward,_ an'_ then take a _righ'. 'Tain't_ hard_ t'_ miss." Ziva nodded, moving down the steps, but she stopped, turning back.

"How will I know-"

"You'll see the word _Omagh, tha's 'ow ye_ know _'tis_ hers."

Ziva thanked her, and followed her instructions, walking for the next three blocks, before coming upon the wrought iron fence. The fence was at least five to six feet high, and after a moment, she slipped through the gate, picking her way along the path before taking a right like the woman suggested. She then looked around, reading the various names before coming to one that held the word she'd been instructed to look for.

_Omagh._

Quickly, Ziva turned, searching the area for someone- anyone- to tell her that this was a cruel joke, for the sight of a camera crew, like those that worked on those stupid prank reality shows Americans loved so much. There was no one; no one but her, standing here, with Emma. She glanced back at the address on the paper in her hand, and sighed, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead before crossing her arms. There was no way this could be real.

She reached out, and shivered when her fingertips chilled to the touch.

_Emma Brigid O'Donnell_

_Victim of the Omagh Bombing_

_30 January, 1971 - 15 August, 1998_

Taking a deep breath, Ziva pulled out her phone, snapping a couple shots; deciding that the logical thing to do would be to look the woman up before she claimed to have seen a...

As she put the phone away, she decided that as soon as she got the chance, she would talk to Tim about it. But even as she made that decision, she couldn't stop the thought from worming its way into her mind-

Emma O'Donnell was dead. Her son had been saved by a ghost.


	37. Chapter 37

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to puppypants for reviewing 36 and Reader for reviewing 35 and 36.**

"Hey baby, did you find Ms. O'Donnell?" Ziva tossed her keys onto the kitchen table as she entered; she had removed her coat, tossing it on the back of the armchair after closing the front door. She brushed her hair out of her eyes, running a hand through her curls as she went to her husband, sighing.

Asher was upstairs in his room, sound asleep, the pain meds he was on having knocked the boy out, despite his protests that he wasn't tired. Zipporah was also upstairs, working on her homework. Neither she nor Asher had said a word to each other; something that worried Tim deeply, but he didn't press, knowing if he did, both his kids would shut down completely. At one point, Zipporah had come downstairs, fixed a cup of coffee, and returned; Tim hadn't heard from her since, just the soft lilt of music and the occasional shriek as she had a meltdown over something she wasn't understanding. Clearly, his daughter had inherited her mother's trait for absolute and complete verbalizing of frustration.

"_Ken_, I found her." Ziva replied, going to her husband and wrapping her arms around his neck from behind.

"So, what did she say?" She glanced at the chapter he was working on, reading a couple lines, before her gaze moved to the stairs.

"How are the kids? Have you heard from Liron, or has our son broken ties completely?" She pulled away, resting her hands on his shoulders.

"Liron broke ties with us long ago, Zi. The night he ran off to be with Keavy- thanks to his brother's stupid advice." Tim sighed. "That was the one time I wish to_ God_ Liron hadn't listened to Asher." She pressed a kiss to his head, running a hand through his hair. "I've tried getting in contact with him; he's the one refusing any chance of a reunion." He reached up, taking her hand and bringing her knuckles to his lips. "So what did Ms. O'Donnell say?"

"Nothing." She replied, pulling away from him and going to the sink. She leaned against it for a moment, before grabbing a mug and filling it with coffee. Tim raised his eyebrows.

"_Nothing_? Come on, Zi-"

"She said nothing, Tim. She couldn't."

"Why, because she was emotional, because she was tongue-tied, because she-"

"Because she's dead." Slowly, she turned, in time to see her husband's jaw drop and eyes widen in surprise.

"I'm sorry? _What_?" Ziva nodded, pulling out her phone and handing it over. "_What do you mean she's_-"

"I took shots." She said as he quickly brought up the photo gallery, pulling up the two most recent photos. "Because honestly, I don't even believe it." His green eyes widened before his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Omagh... wait." His head snapped up, and Ziva saw something spark in his green eyes. She watched her husband set the phone down and get up, shooting into the living room before returning with his scrapbook of articles. Quickly, he flipped through it, before finally finding what she wanted.

"Tim, baby, what is it?" He set the album on the table and pushed it towards her.

"The Omagh bombing. It's a small town in Northern Ireland, nestled between two rivers." She went to him and leaned close, reading the article over his shoulder. "In ninety-eight, a red Vauxhall Cavalier was parked on the street and abandoned. See?" He pointed to a before photograph in a newspaper article, showing the red car, before pointing to another one- one of what appeared to be the same street, just littered in debris. "At three-ten exactly, it exploded; destroyed businesses, residences... it killed twenty-nine people."

"Locals?"

Tim nodded. "Mostly teenagers- and tourists from the Republic." He flipped through another few pages, before slowly removing an article and unfolding it; each victim- name, photograph, and where they were originally from- was shown and listed. He quickly scanned the names before laying it before her. "Right there." Gently, he tapped the paper, sighing. She leaned close, reading through it silently.

_Emma Brigid O'Donnell- Age twenty-seven. A tourist from the Republic of Ireland. Married to Patrick O'Donnell; twelve weeks pregnant with twins. She and a friend, Elizabeth Monaghan, were coming out of a shop, laden with bags. They were walking towards the bomb, were killed when it exploded. Emma died of her injuries on the way to the hospital; her husband confirmed her death at four-thirty a.m. the next morning. She and husband Patrick had only been married two years , and were planning on celebrating their anniversary the week after the bombing. _

Ziva reached up, grasping her necklace. "Oh God..." She took a seat at the kitchen table, grasping her mug. "So... so she was... she was killed in a bombing in... in ninety-eight... Asher was... exactly a year old... and while I was raising our son and teaching him to walk and... and telling him stories I would make up about our lives with you, and... and how you would take us away from Israel... she was losing her life... and the lives of her babies... I can't... I can't imagine that..."

* * *

Ziva slipped into the kitchen at two the next morning; the bed had gone cold, and she'd awoken to find herself alone. Missing Tim's warmth and strong arms, she had slipped out of bed and headed downstairs, expecting to find him in the living room writing. "They call her the Woman in White."

Ziva looked up, to find her husband at the kitchen table, his laptop open, a cup of coffee in front of him. "What?" She furrowed her brow as she joined him.

"Emma O'Donnell. They call her the Woman in White. They say she's... a protector of those in dangerous situations, giving help to those who need it, just as she herself received it- even though for her, it was too late." She leaned over his shoulder, studying what he'd pulled up on the screen. Articles about the Woman in White of Dublin County. She gently poked him, silently asking for him to scoot his chair back; once done, she perched on his lap, reaching for his cup and taking a sip.

"So... a ghost saved our son's life." She said, meeting his gaze. He nodded.

"Pretty much." Silence fell between the two, and Ziva rested her forehead to his. She nodded, not fully wanting to believe it, but circumstances forced her hand.

"Okay."


	38. Chapter 38

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to silvermoon217 and Reader for reviewing 37.**

"I_ dinna und'rstand_. I did_ nothin' t'_..."

"But that's the thing. Sometimes things happen, that we don't understand. My sister and I didn't ask to suffer abuse from our parents, it just happened. You didn't ask to be paralyzed, but it just happened. You have to make the best of it, even if the last thing you want to do at the moment is keep living."

Devin shook her head, sniffling. She had shown up on the McGee's doorstep that Saturday morning, and had been about to ask Ziva if she could talk to Tim, but all the older woman had done was look over her shoulder; Tim had been at the table, finishing up his work for the day, his novel forgotten. He'd looked up, meeting his wife's gaze, and had put the finishing touches on what he needed done before getting up and grabbing his light jacket. He pressed a kiss to his wife's lips gently, squeezing her hand before nodding to the girl.

Now, they sat in a small coffee shop; Tim had listened as Devin told him about the hassle of the last few days to get used to the wheelchair, to get used to maneuvering it at school, and the agony of the realization that she would most likely never dance again; even if she did regain the ability to walk, walking and dancing were two entirely different problems- one a molehill, the other a mountain. She took a deep breath, meeting Tim's eyes. "I... _jus' wanna_ be able_ t'_ dance again... _an'... an'_ feel the sand under_ me_ feet..."

He reached out, taking her hand. "I know it's hard, Devin. Believe me, I've been there. I've had my father beat me to within an inch of my life, I've had the mother of my child ripped from my arms before either of us even knew our son existed. I've had my team ripped apart, and my family torn to shreds because of this violence, this war. I've been there. And while I may not be paralyzed, I have nearly lost my life, on more than one occasion. I know how hard it can be to pick yourself up again after something horrible. My marriage was nearly destroyed, but I got through it. And so will you. You aren't alone, you have everyone in Clontarf behind you, your mother, Mrs. McGee and I... Asher, and yes, even Zipporah and Liam and Keavy and Liron. You'll be okay."

Devin nodded, swallowing thickly. "I _jus'... Ma 'as_ told me _tha'... tha'_ violence... destroys. I... I_ nev'r und'rstood_... bad things rarely_ 'apened_ here..."

"Now you know she's right." She nodded. "It always takes the violence to make people wake up and realize that they need to make a change. But once they make that change, they're all the better for it." He sighed, running the tip of his finger along the rim of his cup. He slowly turned his gaze to the band around his finger; Devin watched him, swallowing before she spoke.

_"Ma... Ma_ says _tha'... tha' ye_ still... that _ye_ still _'ave_ this... innocence_ 'bout ye_, Mr. McGee."

Tim chuckled softly, licking his lips. "I don't have as much innocence as most people think, Devin. When you grow up the child of an abuser, you tend to lose it pretty quickly. My sister is more innocent than I am; I did everything I could to make sure she kept that innocence, and even now, there are some things she still is completely clueless about- and I'd rather keep her that way. The last thing Sarah needs is to be tainted by violence." He sighed.

"Sarah is_ yer_ sister?" He nodded.

"My baby sister, _ken_." Moments passed in silence, before he continued. "My wife and I have done everything possible to make sure that our kids were never touched by the violence and abuse we witnessed. We thought we'd made the right decision, but..." He sighed. "It's your generation's turn to fight for peace, not violence. You will be the ones to stop it. My grandmother, Penny, used to tell us that all the time." He shook his head, taking a sip. "But it's not true. It's not our fight anymore. Our turn was up, and all we did was escalate the violence, forgetting what we were fighting for; forgetting peace." He studied Devin, silent for a moment. "It's your generation's turn to fight for peace, and you need to use it wisely. It's your turn now." He finished the last of his coffee, before watching Devin do the same. "Ready to go?"

She nodded.

* * *

Zivaleh, _please,_ tell me you're all right."

"We are _fine_, Tali. I promise. Asher is... doing better. Two months ago, he could not even take a breath without crying out in pain, and now..." She chuckled softly. "Now he is back to shouting orders to the other members of the Curling team at school during practice- but the coach keeps a sharp eye on him; doctor's orders. He's strong, a fighter, my son."

She sighed, glancing at her mug before meeting her sister's eyes on the screen. Tali had called in a panic, hearing about the latest bombing in Dublin by the ARBI, and had immediately asked Ziva about Tim and the kids; none were in Dublin, all were home- except for Liron, of course, who'd run off to be with Keavy, and since vanished from the face of the earth, breaking all contact with his family- something that tore at Ziva's heart whenever she thought of the boy. Two months had passed since 'Bloody Monday' as the press was dubbing the Massacre at Parnell Square, and life was slowly returning to normal. Over two hundred had been killed in the massacre, and the injured numbered in the thousands, but overall, things were fine for the family- as fine as they could get.

Unless you counted Asher's nightmares.

Ziva shook her head as Tali returned to her questioning. _"Tali, ragu-ah!"_

_"Do not tell me to calm down, Ziva!"_ The other woman sighed, setting her cup down on the table.

"Tali, we are_ fine_. Asher is _fine_. He is strong, and he is _fighting_, like he always has. Just like we always have. He's a McGee, remember? My boys are fighters."

"He's also a David." Ziva groaned, grabbing her cup and turning from her sister to stare out the kitchen window into the backyard, essentially ignoring her sister. "Do not ignore me, Ziva, you know it's true."

"Do not bring that bastard into this, Talia." Ziva replied, not shifting her gaze from the window.

"He was still our father." She turned, her sharp gaze meeting her sister's.

"That bastard tried to kill me and my unborn son,_ remember_? He tried to kill my husband and left me to die in a desert! He was no more my father than Ambassador McGee is Tim's! And he has _nothing_ to do with this!"

"Ziva, all I was saying, is that it's in our blood to survive, too. And if _Abba_ did _anything_ good at all, he taught us_ how_ to survive, and for that, we have to be grateful." Her sister sighed, taking a seat in front of the laptop.

"I-" She stopped, feeling strong arms slide around her shoulders. She hadn't even been aware that Tim had returned from dropping Devin off at home.

"Hey Tali, torturing my wife again?" Tim asked, slipping his arms quickly around her shoulders and squeezing as he pressed a kiss to Ziva's temple. His sister-in-law glared at him, and he chuckled before pulling away from his wife.

"I'm not torturing her, Tim." She turned back to Ziva. "Look, Zi-"

"I'm done talking about this, Tali."

"But-"

"No. I'm done." And without another word, she shut the laptop.

On the other end, Tali rolled her eyes. "No, we aren't like _Abba_ at all."


	39. Chapter 39

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: I hate the muse, I hate the muse, I _hate_ the _muse_...**

"I want to see U2 in concert. I've seen his performances on Youtube, and he does amazing things when he sings _Sunday Bloody Sunday_." Ziva 'hmmed' softly, gently guiding her son into the cemetery; Tim followed, tightening his grip on Zipporah's arm. Liam followed, silent. "When they performed at Slane Castle, Bono asked the audience to turn the song into a prayer, and then told them it had been three years after Omagh. And at the end of it, he named all twenty-nine victims, and said it was too many."

"It is too many." Ziva agreed as she continued to pick the familiar route through the stones.

"No it's not." Everyone turned to Zipporah, who slowly glanced at each in turn. "What?"

"Any_ numb'r 'tis_ too many, Zip." Liam whispered; his oldest sister had been gunned down in front of him, by the ARBI, and he'd fled. Tim had looked up from his work early that morning at the sound of frantic knocking, and pulled the door open to find Liam, shaking and in tears, apologizing profusely for the part he played in tearing Tim and Ziva's family apart.

Tim had yanked the boy into the house, shoved him into a chair at the table, and pushed a cup of coffee into his hands. Ziva had, at one point come downstairs, and had listened silently as Asher had told them everything; none of them noticed Zipporah slip into the kitchen. When Liam had asked Ziva and Tim to help his get out of the IUFI, Zipporah had taken a seat beside him; taking his hand. Her wakeup call had hit when she saw those people carrying her brother- bleeding and near death from a bullet to the chest- towards her, looking for help, for a chance to get Asher to an ambulance. Losing his older sister this morning- in front of his very eyes- had been the wakeup call the boy had needed. Though both were still in the group, they now stayed on the fringes, and made a point of reporting to Gibbs and the other alphabet agencies with new developments. They were careful, and no one suspected kids of playing double agents, after all.

"Why are we here, _Abba_?" Zipporah asked, confused. Tim sighed, catching Ziva's gaze as she gently tugged Asher forward, stopping his study of some of the intricately beautiful old stones.

We want you to meet the woman who saved your brother's life." He replied. Ziva remained silent, just continued along the route, before making a turn to the right. The others followed, staying silent. Finally, Ziva stopped; she was surprised to see someone else at Emma's grave. A man, laying a bouquet of red roses at the base of the stone.

"Oh..." The man stood, turning to face her. "I'm sorry, we-" She stopped, seeing the pain in his eyes.

"Are_ ye 'ere t'_ see Emma?" Ziva nodded.

"_Ima_?" Both turned, as Asher joined her, the others following.

"This _yer_ son?" Ziva nodded again, silent. The man licked his lips, sighing. "I work at the hospital where the Parnell Square victims were taken. I... I heard _ye talkin'_ _'bout... 'bout_ Emma that day-"

"_Ken_. Yes." She pulled Asher close. "I'm Ziva McGee. This is my husband Tim and our daughter, Zipporah and her friend Liam. And this is my son, Asher. He-"

"He survived the bombing. I can tell. There's a look, that most survivors of bombings wear." Ziva bit her lip. "I'm sorry, Patrick O'Donnell."

"You are Emma's husband." Ziva whispered, and he nodded. She bit her lip, unsure if she should say anything about what she'd discovered.

"She helped... she helped my brother-"

"Zipporah!" Asher turned, confused, even as he tried to understand what she was talking about. Patrick sighed.

"No. _'Tis_ okay. I know. I know they call _me_ wife_ th'_ Woman in White; _tha'_ she_ 'elps_ those in need in_ dang'rous_ situations. I know what_ me_ wife_ 'as_ become, _an' wha'_ she could_ 'ave_ been..." He studied the older boy, reaching out and taking Asher's hand. _"Ye 'ave t'_ make sure_ ye_ live_ ev'ry_ day as though _'twas yer_ last, _ye_ hear me?" Patrick glanced at Zipporah and Liam and the two nodded as well. "_B'cause ye nev'r_ know when _ye'll_ kiss _th'_ people _ye_ love goodbye, _an' nev'r_ see _'em_ again."

And then he left, squeezing Ziva's hand as he passed. When he was gone, Asher turned to the stone. "_Ima_, I... I don't-" Gently, Ziva lay her hands on her son's shoulders, gently guiding him towards the stone. "Who is this?" He turned back to his mother.

"This, is your good Samaritan, my angel."

* * *

"Brother?" Asher looked up from his book; Zipporah stood in the doorway of his room, holding tight to Mr. Bunny Rabbit. He sighed, turning another page in his book. Ziva had since returned to the cemetery, wanting to talk with Emma, leaving Tim home and in charge of the kids. "Can we talk?" He returned to his book. "Please?" A moment passed, before Asher closed his book and got up, going to his stereo. He pulled out a cd, inserting it into the player and starting it. Instantly, U2 began to play, and Zipporah sighed, going to the stereo and turn it down, but he grabbed her wrist. She turned.

"Don't. Touch." She yanked her hand away.

"We can't talk if you're playing music."

"We're not going to talk. I don't want to talk to you." He replied, narrowing his eyes.

"But we need to!" She reached up, yanking the cd out of the stereo, but Asher snapped it back. He returned it to the stereo, then grabbed another cd case and shoved it into her hands, before turning her around and walking her towards the door.

"No. What you need to do is put that into your laptop, put your headphones on, play it, and_ listen_ to it." She glanced down at the cover.

"U2?"

"_You listen to the first track over and over until you get it_!"

"But Brother-"

"_No! We aren't talking!_ Not until you _listen_ to that first track and_ understand_!" Then, he shoved her out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Downstairs, Tim turned his eyes to the ceiling from his talk with Liam, sighing.

"At_ leas'_ they're _talkin'_." Liam said. Tim rolled his eyes.


	40. Chapter 40

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: This chapter- and the next- are meant to be powerful. I hope they are. **

Zipporah glanced down at the cd cover she held in her hand.

U2- _War_.

She slipped back into her room, grabbing her laptop and curling up on her bed. Slowly, she opened the case, pulling the cd out and slipping it into the laptop. Then, she plugged her headphones in and put her headphones in. He'd told her to listen to the first song over and over until she understood. She didn't understand why Asher was so angry at her; she'd been the one to get the others in the barricade to let them pass that day, after she'd realized it was her brother they were carrying. She knew that her brother had been saved, but she still didn't understand why he'd kicked her out of his room and told her to listen to music.

The first song, he'd told her. She checked the list of songs, reading the first one.

_Sunday Bloody Sunday. _

"_That's_ what he wants me to listen to? Sounds like a_ lovely_ song." She cringed, but grabbed her laptop and settled on her bed. After a moment of hesitation, she pressed play, and lay back. Not expecting much from a song with such a horrifying title, she stared at the ceiling, letting the drum intro tug at her, followed by The Edge's familiar guitar, before Bono's voice jumped in, all smooth milk and honey.

"_'I can't believe the news today. I can't close my eyes and make it go away. How long..._'" She turned her attention from the ceiling, her gaze landing on a photograph on her nightstand. It was one of her and her parents, taken a few years ago, back when Fiona was still alive, before everything went to Hell- back before the curfew was strictly enforced, before they even knew about youth factions in the major opposition groups, before her family had been involved. Back when everything was good, and they were happy. Before Liron ran off to join Keavy in the ARBI, before she joined the IUFI, before the march, before Asher had been shot, before her family fell apart.

In the photo, Fiona and her parents were sitting on the sofa- Asher was sitting on the floor between his parents- in the living room, sorting through Christmas decorations, because it had been around Christmas time and Hanukkah that they'd gone down to visit her- the older woman had been very good about letting Ziva basically turn her home upside down for the holidays, especially concerning Hanukkah. At one point in the image, Zipporah had clambered over the arm of the sofa, throwing her arms around her father's neck, a sprig of mistletoe in her grasp._ "You're under the mistletoe, you have to kiss me, Abba!"_ So Tim had turned and pressed a kiss to her cheek, making her giggle, as Ziva and Fiona had laughed. Liron had managed to catch the moment in time forever.

But now Fiona was dead and Zipporah's family was torn apart, thanks to the violence, thanks to the choices she and Liron had made. This violence had nearly cost her her big brother, had taken Liron from her; God only knew if he was still alive, for he'd broken all ties with his family. Occasionally, she saw him at school, but most of the time she thought she'd just imagined her older brother. _"'How long must we sing this song? How long? How long... 'cause tonight... we can be as one. Tonight...'"_

She grabbed the photograph, laying on her back to study it. _Abba_ was quieter than usual; _Ima_ hardly ever smiled anymore. Asher wasn't speaking to her, and Liron was gone; Devin gave her the cold, silent treatment whenever she was around, and Liam... Liam seemed to be the only other person that gave her the time of day when they were together. Even Jethro ignored her, as if sensing that she'd done wrong, that she was partially responsible for this violence, for the rift in his family.

_"'Broken bottles under children's feet, bodies strewn across the dead end street, but I won't heed the battle call. It puts my back up, puts my back up against the wall.'"_ She took a deep breath. She'd watched that day, as the march was going on, as members of the IUFI pushed marchers up against the walls, checking them for nail bombs and guns, suspecting they were for the opposite side of the fight, only to find some carrying their wallets, some change, their phone, maybe their house keys. She had watched one boy- no older than Asher- line marchers up and execute them in cold blood. The marchers- men, women, children, even- the majority of them teenagers- had dropped like flies. _"'Sunday, Bloody Sunday... Sunday, Bloody Sunday. Sunday, Bloody Sunday.'"_

At one point, she'd been ordered to search marchers for ARBI paraphernalia. So, eager to help, not fully understanding the heaviness of what was taking place, she'd complied, rushing off to do as ordered. And when she'd rounded the corner, gun in hand, she'd found herself staring at a group of terrified marchers- of all ages- huddled near a parked car, the only shelter they could seek in the violence that had taken over the peace they marched to bring. She'd instantly scanned the faces, slipping her gun back into the holster she'd been given, looking for anyone she knew- she knew several, they were neighbors, her parents' coworkers, friends from school- and after a moment, she'd gone to each, asking instead of searching. She touched no one, remaining back, but within distance that she could see what else was going on.

_"'And the battle's just begun; there's many lost, but tell me who has won? The trench is dug within our hearts, and mothers, children, brothers, sisters torn apart.'"_ For some reason, as she searched those huddled in fear, she'd thought of_ Ima_, and how Liron's running off had nearly killed her. And then, with the subtlest of gestures, she'd ordered as many as she could to flee; behind the car, get down, crawl through the barricade, and _run_.

Many had; others had stayed, either out of fear or out of some terrified thought that there were IUFI men and women waiting on the other side of the barricades. Some had stayed in hopes that they could get to the wounded and help; those that stayed, she wasn't sure what happened to them, if they lived or died. She didn't remember their faces, just the terrified look in their eyes.

_"'Sunday, Bloody Sunday... Sunday, Bloody Sunday. How long... how long must we sing this song? How long? How long...'"_ She had returned in time to see a girl- bag still over her shoulder, rushing from the gunfire- stumble to her knees. She'd crawled away, had just about reached the doorway of a building when a bullet had ripped through her back and she'd fallen, still. It was only later, in the hospital, that she had learned the girl was Devin. _"'cause tonight... we can be as one. Tonight... tonight...'"_

She took a deep breath. Another bomb had exploded somewhere further along down the march, killing hundreds more. And while those in the youth faction with her had joked and bragged about how this would top the Bogside Massacre, she'd only cared about getting to Devin. But, unable to see if the girl was all right, if she'd been taken to the hospital, she'd been sent off on another errand. Nail bombs, handguns and knives had been shoved into her arms and she'd been ordered to plant the articles on the bodies of the dead-

_"'Sunday, Bloody Sunday... Sunday, Bloody Sunday.'"_ And like the good little soldier she was, she'd rushed off, doing as told, until someone stopped her. A boy, no older than ten or so, had grabbed her ankle from where he lay on the street, begging softly for help. She had dropped what she'd been holding, and knelt down, glancing over her shoulder as she did so, and after a moment, she'd leaned close, until his lips had brushed her ear. Even now, his request still made her blood run cold.

_"Go get me mammy, please. I... I want me mammy. I want me mammy..."_

His grip on her ankle had loosened as he drew his last breath, and she'd scrambled away from him, shaking. She had never found his mother, nor did she ever think she would, not even to apologize for her part- no matter how small- in her child's death. Though she had pictured _Ima_, and the violent reaction she'd had to Zipporah's betrayal, and she didn't know if she'd ever be able to face another reaction like that, from her mother or not. Her planted evidence forgotten, she'd climbed to her feet and rushed back to the barricades- in time to see a young man shoot the woman in front of her, splattering her shirt and hair with blood.

_"'How long... How long must we sing this song? How long? How long... 'cause tonight... we can be as one tonight... tonight...'"_ Suddenly, a fit of anger took hold, and she threw the photograph; the frame hit the wall, the glass breaking as it landed on the floor. _"'Sunday, Bloody Sunday... Sunday, Bloody Sunday.'"_

Zipporah made no move to pick the photo up, to throw the broken glass away; if anything, that stupid photograph signified everything that had destroyed her family. Her great-aunt was dead; her older brother was out of the picture entirely, thanks to Keavy; Asher had gone through life-saving surgery thanks to the bullet he'd sustained at that march; her parents had reacted both all but shut down, and she... she had chosen violence and murder over those she loved. It would be their blood on her hands- as it had been Asher's that day- if anything happened to her parents, and she didn't know if she could live with that.

She shifted onto her side, facing the wall, Bono's voice still singing in her ears. _"'Wipe the tears from your eyes, wipe your tears away. Oh, wipe your tears away... wipe your tears away...'"_ The Edge's voice soon joined Bono, singing the chorus, the heartbreaking title of the song._ "'Sunday, Bloody Sunday... Oh, wipe your bloodshot eyes... Sunday, Bloody Sunday.'"_

A moment passed, before she brushed the tears from her cheeks, remembering the commotion that had been those people carrying her brother towards them, shot in the chest and bleeding to death. She hadn't known it was Asher they were carrying until they'd tried to get through the barricade, and she'd rushed to help. The sight of her big brother- in the arms of other civilians, near unconscious, bleeding profusely from a bullet to the chest- had scared her beyond reason. She'd already lost Liron, and now the possibility that she would lose Asher...

_"'Sunday, Bloody Sunday... Sunday, Bloody Sunday... Sunday, Bloody Sunday... Sunday, Bloody Sunday.'"_ She hadn't been paying attention when Asher had done nothing but talk about the upcoming march to Dublin; hadn't been aware that he'd asked to go, and that _Abba_ and_ Ima_ had agreed. _"'And it's true we are immune, when fact is fiction and TV reality. And today the millions cry; we eat and drink, while tomorrow they die.'"_

She'd sat in the ambulance, holding tight to her brother's hand, unable to stop herself from reaching out and pressing her hand to his chest, even as the paramedics tired to save her brother. She'd begged for his forgiveness on the ride to the hospital, pleaded for him to understand, that she hadn't known he was there, that she'd never meant to hurt him, or anyone. _"'Sunday, Bloody Sunday...'"_

The paramedics had listened, watched as she squeezed his hand, telling him that he had no right to leave her, to leave _Abba_ and _Ima_, and Liron... that he had to survive for them, for Devin, for Tali, and the team back in the States. And when they'd reached the hospital, the doctors had asked her to wait outside emergency; she'd paced, back and forth, Asher's blood drying and caking on her hands by the time _Abba_ and_ Ima_ got there, frantic with fear._ "'The real battle just begun, to claim the victory Jesus won on...'"_

She yanked the headphones from her ears, pushing the laptop aside as the song finished, and curled up on the bed, wrapping her arms around herself, sobbing. She didn't hear the door open, or someone poke their head into her room.

_"Sunday, Bloody Sunday... Sunday, Bloody Sunday...'"_


	41. Chapter 41

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Asher sighed; before softly closing the door behind him and heading downstairs. Tim looked up as his oldest came into the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee. He looked up as the front door opened and Ziva came in, peeling off her jacket and tossing it on the back of the chair. She ran a hand through her dark curls, taking a deep breath as she came into the kitchen. "Hey baby. How was your talk with Emma?" She gently smacked him on the back of the head, glaring at him, and then slid a hand down his shoulder, caressing his bicep, before dropping something on the table. Silent, she picked up Tim's cup and took a sip.

"I stopped by the police station, and they gave me back Asher's phone." Her oldest son looked up from his place at the counter.

"I... I wasn't even aware that... that I'd lost..." Ziva shrugged.

"Honestly, I don't know what made me stop by the _Gardaí_ today, but I did, and the police chief asked if I was involved in the peace march; I told him my son was, and he asked for my son's name, and then gave me your phone. Said they made a copy of the video for evidence to be used in the court case, and that you were to watch it and see if you remember anything else from that day."

Asher's gaze shifted from the phone to his mother. "I... I have to watch it... alone?" Tim shook his head.

"No. If you want us to watch it with you-" But before he finished, Asher rushed upstairs, returning with a chord that he plugged into his phone and his father's laptop; Tim nodded, understanding that his son wanted him to download the video so they could watch it on the laptop. Once it was downloaded, Tim glanced at his oldest son. Liam came around to watch as well, as Ziva perched on Tim's lap. "Whenever you're ready, sweetheart." Tim whispered, and after a moment, Asher nodded.

* * *

Zipporah slowly, silently came downstairs, heading for the kitchen. She stopped however, at the sight of everyone in the kitchen, gathered around her father's laptop. She could hear laughing and talking, but they were all silent. A moment passed, before she went to them, peaking at whatever they were staring at on the screen, and her heart stalled.

It was video of the massacre, taken on Asher's phone, before the bombing and the shooting started.

_"Wha' do we do wi' th' flags?" _

_"We jus' wave 'em!"_ _People laughed and joked; others sang songs and chanted as they walked. Asher moved the camera back towards the front, catching Devin in the frame; she laughed, waving the small Irish flag that she'd been handed at the march headquarters before it began. She grabbed his hand, tugging him close. _

_"Can ye believe 'ow many turned ou' for this?" She asked, laughing. Asher shook his head. _

_"No! I've never seen a march before!" _

_"Ye've nev'r been t' a march?" He shook his head. "Wha' 'bout a conc'rt?" _

_"No." _

_"Ye've nev'r been t' a conc'rt?" She shook her head, wrinkling her nose. "We're gonna 'ave t' fix tha'. D' ye like U2?" _

_"Who?" He asked, unable to hear her completely over the din of the chanting, the singing. She moved closer._

_"U2. D' ye like U2?" He seemed to think a moment, digesting her words before he spoke. _

_"I love U2. They're my favorite band." _

Zipporah glanced at Asher; she knew that Asher loved the older bands, that he had all of Queen's cds, all of U2's cds, but she didn't understand the desire her brother possessed to see the Irish rock band in concert.

_"Ye know Sunday Bloody Sunday 'tis 'bout the Bogside Massacre in 'seventy-two." Asher nodded, shifting the camera to take in other marchers. And suddenly, the ground shook with the force of an explosion, and he turned, catching sight of the explosion that killed thirty instantly. "Oh God!" People began to flee, to charge, searching for an escape, unaware that the IUFI had blocked the streets with barricades, essentially blocking the marchers in. _

Easier to pick them off one by one, Ziva realized as she watched.

_Asher turned, watching as a girl rushed past, about ten or so, burned and covered in blood, screaming. People were trying desperately to get out of the way, ducking behind anything they thought would give them shelter._ _"Devin! Devin!" He rushed off, still recording, watching as people dropped like flies in the dirt, bullets in their backs or head, blood pooling beneath their lifeless bodies. A few who managed to survive their wounds attempted to crawl away, only to be shot again, forever stilled in their quest for shelter. "Devin!"_

_He turned; a girl fled, her bag over her shoulder. She looked back quickly, stumbling, falling to her knees. In desperation, she crawled towards the doorway of a building. As her hand reached up to bang or grasp at the door, a shot was heard; something seemed to pass through the girl, and she fell, lying still, inches from safety. Asher turned, unaware that it was Devin that had fallen in a heap by the door; he rushed towards Bryan, a friend of his on the Curling team, but the boy fell to the ground as the back of his head exploded._

Tim winced. Images of Kate, lying dead on the rooftop of the warehouse, a bullet hole in her forehead, her brain splattered on Tony and the cement, her eyes lifeless, rushed to his mind, and he took a deep breath. To think that his son had witnessed that- He turned to Ziva, who was unable to take her eyes off the footage.

_Asher turned back, in time to see a group carry the girl off- including the woman in her white sundress- Emma O'Donnell. He rushed towards them. "No! Don't shoot! I'm unarmed! I swear, I'm unarmed!" Something happened, and a flutter of white flew past the camera, repeatedly._

Zipporah gasped softly. The white scarf, that she thought one of the people carrying her brother owned, actually belonged to Asher. Now that she thought of it, though, she should have recognized it- it was the same scarf Fiona had given him for Hanukkah before she died, the same scarf she'd brought from Dublin for him, just as she'd gotten Liron's gloves and Zipporah's beret- from a little shop in downtown Dublin, that made their own clothing, dyed it, and sold it; good quality at a reasonable price.

_He continued across the street, waving the scarf, when he seemed to stop, crying out. He stumbled, grabbing his chest, and, losing his grip on the phone, he collapsed, bleeding to the street. The phone, still on, continued to record. Several minutes passed by, before people rushed to him. He was rolled onto his back. "We 'ave t' get 'im t' the 'ospital! 'E'll bleed t' death if we don't!"_

Emma O'Donnell's voice came on over the recording, as she and others lifted the boy into their arms, and Ziva choked on a sob, burying her face in Tim's shoulder.

_ "Stay wit' me, love. Ye're Ma an' Da need ye. Stay wit' me... Come on, love. Stay wit' me..."_

Asher quickly stopped the video, turning to his parents. Ziva had gotten up and started pacing. But she stopped when Tim joined her, pulling her into his arms. She shook her head, pushing him away at first before choking and wrapping her arms around his neck, sobbing. He held her close, stroking her back and letting her cry. Asher met his sister's gaze, before getting up and rushing back upstairs, slamming his bedroom door. She turned back to her parents, hearing the heartbreak in her mother's cries.


	42. Chapter 42

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

The death toll from the Parnell Square Massacre was finally rounded up to nine hundred and fifty.

It had taken six months, because some of the bodies were so badly burned from the bombings, that family had been unable to identify them.

He tried to feel grateful that he wasn't listed among the dead, but he couldn't. He took a deep breath, slowly tracing the scar on his chest; he didn't understand how his father could look at the scars on his back, and not wish he'd never survived. He also would live with this scar for the rest of his life. And while Tim had managed to accept that his scars were a part of him, that they were there as a reminder of his life before he found his family again, Asher wasn't sure he'd ever be able to live with it. All his scar reminded him of was the massacre he'd survived, that Devin had been paralyzed in, and the fight his siblings were wrapped up in.

Once Zipporah and Liam had decided to pull out of the IUFI, Gibbs had jumped at the chance to use them as informants. Tim and Ziva had flipped; they'd spent a week arguing with each other about it, before finally reaching an agreement and jumping down their former boss's throat about using their only daughter in this international investigation. But in the end, both adults had shrunk under the SecNav's gaze when she matter-of-factly told them that the only way the investigation would ever move faster than it was, was if they used someone who was already on the inside.

And Liam and Zipporah fit that bill.

The soft strumming of The Edge's guitar as he began strumming the familiar notes, and soon, his voice came over the stereo speakers. It was a rare version of the song that the band had included on their newest hits cd- a cd filled with remixes and new versions of some of their best songs. It was a version Asher liked more than the upbeat, punk-like rock version they were known for; with Edge's soft voice and only the gentle strumming of his guitar, he made it seem almost like a lullaby, a raw, heartbreaking lullaby, and yet, it had a quality to it that screamed, 'Look at what you've done, how could you let this happen?'

Asher sighed. He hadn't seen his _War_ cd since he'd given it to Zipporah six months earlier, and then, this morning he'd woken up to find it laying on his nightstand. Ever since he'd given Zipporah the cd and told her to listen to it, she'd been calmer, quieter, rushed to do whatever he asked, even when he didn't ask- if their parents asked, she leapt to fulfill their request, with barely a word. And while his father had encouraged him to talk to her, Asher hadn't; he'd spent more and more time with Devin, listening to her when she needed to talk, going to her physical therapy sessions with her- she'd begged Ziva and Tim to come also, and the two had agreed, which gave Enya no end of relief to realize that she wasn't forced to go through this alone, during Devin's therapy sessions.

A soft knock sounded on the door, and after a moment, Ziva poked her head in. "How are you doing, my angel?" Asher glanced over his shoulder at her, sighing. She slipped into the room, going to him, catching sight of the scar in the mirror. Letting out a soft breath, she took a seat on his bed. "I had hoped... that you and your siblings would not be touched by violence, like your father, your aunt, and I were. I wanted you to grow up free of the pain it caused." She shook her head. "But was too difficult a request to be granted."

Asher sat beside her, confused. "But_ Ima_... I..." Her dark gaze moved to his chest, and after a moment, she reached out, gently tracing the scar down the center of his chest, like she did with the scars on Tim's back or the tattoos on his wrists. The boy winced lightly, and his mother took a deep breath, sniffling.

"_Abba_ and I tried so hard..." She shook her head. "To keep you from experiencing what I did, to keep you from being _shaped_ by the same bloodshed and murder and..._ hate_... that I was shaped by." She took a deep breath, struggling to swallow the lump in her throat. And then she reached out, hesitating, before she took her son's hand. She choked on a sob. "You have... _Abba_'s hands... his beautiful, long slender fingers..." Slowly, Ziva shook her head, struggling to keep her tears at bay. "My beautiful baby boy..."

_She gently brushed her finger against her son's palm, and the infant wrapped his tiny fingers around hers, his whole hand barely wrapping around his mother's index finger. The boy stared up at her, his blue eyes drinking in everything about his mother he could see, and after a moment, she smiled, sniffling. The pillows she leaned against supported her aching back, and she swallowed, trying hard not to cry. Rivka watched her oldest daughter, relieved that the birth was finally over and that both Ziva and the baby were strong and healthy. Tali poked her head into the room, nervous. Ari turned to the younger girl, before going to the door and slipping out of the bedroom, taking Tali in the kitchen._

_"Shalom, baby boy. You are beautiful, and you are here, and I have been waiting to meet you for months." She sniffled. "I love you." Her voice was raw, her throat sore, from the hours she'd spent in childbirth, doing as her mother demanded, releasing her emotions in the form of screams. Hours had passed since her son had made his entrance into the world, and she now sat in bed, laying back against the pillows, her son cradled in her arms and wrapped loosely in a pink blanket. His dark curls were soft, they reminded her of the downy feathers of a newborn duckling, and she smiled at him. She could already see his father in him, and it brought tears to her eyes, as she brought his tiny hand to her lips and brushed a kiss to his soft skin. _

_"If you need anything, Zivaleh, let me know." She nodded, not noticing as her mother slipped out of the room, leaving her alone, cradling the last piece of the man she loved in her arms._

"To think... that nearly six months ago... I almost lost one of the most precious things in my life-" She took a deep breath. "I lost your father once, to nearly lose you forever..." Silent, Asher curled into his mother's side, laying his head on her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart. Ziva held her son close; tangling her fingers in his dark curls. "You are a fighter, Asher Malachi, just like _Abba_ is. Remember that, my angel." He nodded, as she pressed a kiss to his head.


	43. Chapter 43

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Enya learns a little more about Ziva's past...**

"_Ye_ ready, Devin?" The girl swallowed; several minutes passed, before she turned to Enya, Asher and the others, before turning back to her therapist.

"... I think so." It had taken six months since the shooting, but Devin was finally ready to take those first steps after weeks of being wheelchair bound. She glanced towards Tim and Ziva, who both gave her quick smiles; Ziva took Enya's hand, squeezing gently. Gripping the balance bars, Devin stood on shaky legs, her therapist behind her, there to catch her if her legs gave out.

"Take it slow, Devin. If _ye_ need_ t'_ stop_ an'_ catch_ yer_ breath or_ res'_, do so. _Rememb'r_, take _yer_ time." Devin nodded, slowly lifting her right leg; a hiss of pain escaped her throat, and she whimpered as she slowly set it back on the ground, a few inches in front of her. She looked up at her mother, at Asher and his parents, smile slowly lighting up her face.

"I... I did it... I... I took a... I took a_ step_... I..." Enya took a deep breath, tears slipping down her cheeks at the sight of her daughter, taking her first slow steps after six months in a wheelchair. A moment passed, before she excused herself and rushed from the room. With a glance at her husband, Ziva followed. She found Enya sitting on a bench in the park across the street from the physical therapy office, struggling to get her emotions under control. Taking a deep breath, Ziva took a seat beside the woman who had become one of her closest friends.

"I know it is overwhelming. It was overwhelming when I discovered my sister was alive, when, for nearly four years I had thought she was dead, because my father had told me she was." She sighed, glancing at Enya. "She is strong. She's a fighter, and she's going to be fine. She has all of us behind her to catch her if she needs us too. Neither of you have to go through this alone. You are so strong, Enya; I know I could never possess your strength."

"_Wha'_ are_ ye talkin' 'bout_, Ziva? _Ye_ are _strong'r_ than anyone I know._ Ye 'old_ it _togeth'r bet'r_ than I _ev'r_ could._ Ye_ held it_ togeth'r aft'r_ Asher was shot, _ye an'_ Tim helped Devin deal _wit'_ her_ Da's_ death, _ye 'ave_ done so much for Devin and I. _'ow_ can _ye_ say _ye_ don't possess strength?"

Ziva snorted softly, shaking her head. A moment passed, before she caught the other woman's eye. "I grew up in Israel. I saw violence, from the moment I was born." She laid her hands in her lap, playing with her wedding ring. "My best friend, was a Palestine; he died in an Israeli drone strike when I was twelve." She took a deep breath. "My mother was killed in Amman, in a bombing, when Asher was five; Tali disappeared at that same time, and my father told me that she had died in the same bombing that had killed_ Ima_. I joined Mossad, nearly a year after Asher's birth- because I had to support my child somehow, and that was the best option I could think of. I stayed on the fringes, but my father..." She swallowed thickly.

"My father turned me into an assassin. He turned my half-brother, Ari, into a monster, but he did not get his talons into Tali. She escaped before he could." She refused to meet Enya's eyes, the tears in her own threatening to flow over, and as she continued to speak, she choked. "Tali has compassion. She is the best of us. She's a midwife, she gives life, she does not take it. I did. Most deserved it; but... but there were innocents I killed that never deserved to die. I am no better than the ARBI or the IUFI." She looked down at Enya slowly reached out and took her hand, squeezing gently.

"_Ye_ _gave_ life also, Ziva. No_ matt'r_ the lives_ ye_ took,_ ye_ gave it as well._ Ye_ are _nothin'_ like_ th'_ ARBI or the IUFI." Ziva sighed, forcing herself to swallow her tears.

"I just... I want..." She took a deep breath, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I want something permanent. This is _all_ I want, Enya. In all my life, all those years in Mossad, I never had anything permanent, and what I thought was permanent was always taken away from me. The only reason Asher was spared, was because I did all I could to hide him from my father, but... but Eli took everything else from me. And when we moved here, I thought, _'Finally. After all these years, you get a fresh start, you and Tim, you can raise your children in peace and not worry about the bounty Eli had on your head... you can relax, finally.'_ But... it didn't last. Asher was shot, Zipporah had joined the IUFI, and Liron... neither Tim nor I have heard anything from him since he ran off... whenever I get anything even_ remotely_ permanent, it falls apart..."

Enya scooted closer, realizing that the woman her daughter had grown so close to was more scarred than she could ever think to be. That Ziva kept everything hidden, because of her training, because of the man she'd called her father, because she'd taught herself not to feel, to keep everything hidden, it had screwed her up more than anyone could even think possible. She held the younger woman close, gathering her thoughts before she spoke. "_Ye_ are _strong'r_ than_ ye_ think, Ziva. I could_ nev'r_ even _consid'r survivin'_ were I in_ yer_ shoes. So don't say_ ye_ don't _'ave_ strength. _Ye_ do."

* * *

He slipped into the house, being quiet, despite the fact that no one was home. Silently, he made his way upstairs, slipping into one of the rooms and shutting the door softly behind him. For a moment, he let the familiarity of a home wash over him, before shaking the feeling away and starting his search. He had to get out of the house before they came home, and so time was limited. A quick scan of the room told him almost nothing of what he was searching for, and after a moment, he went to the nightstand. Quickly pulling open the drawer, he rummaged through it, before finding what he was looking for.

As he slipped back downstairs, he stopped, surprised to see the German Shepard sitting at the base of the stairs. Silent, he held a finger to his lips as he passed, patting the dog on the head. The animal whimpered. "Are _ye_ ready? Did _ye_ find it?"

He nodded, as his companion joined him, taking his hand. He held up the object. It dangled and swayed gently on the gold chain. "I found it. Come on. We don't have much time."

Then, without a word, they slipped out of the house, rushing down the street.


	44. Chapter 44

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

"I think it put Enya's mind at ease that we were there today-" Tim stopped, noticing Ziva sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing in particular. "You okay, Zi?" He asked, tossing his shirt in the hamper and going to her. He knelt in front of his wife, searching her eyes. "Hey, what's wrong? Ziva?" She met his eyes briefly, her gaze darting back towards the floor. Gently, he reached up, cradling her face in his hand. "Talk to me. Hey, look at me, Ziva. Okay? Talk to me, baby._ Wha''s goin'_ on in _tha' 'ead o' yers_?"

She didn't bother biting back a soft smile as the beautiful Irish lilt began to gently caress her husband's words. Instead, she sighed and took his other hand in both of hers. He gently lowered his other hand, taking her other hand. She pulled away, caressing his hands in hers. "I just... I want something permanent, something that can't be taken away. Is that too much to ask, Tim?"

He shook his head gently. "_Absolu'ely_ not." He searched her gaze. "Why?_ Wha' 'appened_, Zi?" She shook her head.

"Nothing happened, baby. It's just... since we moved here... since Liron ran off... everything has... it's fallen apart..." She took a deep breath, meeting his gaze. And then she got up, going to the bedroom window. "Everything I build for myself, everything I attain... it gets destroyed in some form or another. And I try to put the pieces back together but... they're too damaged to put back together. For once, I just want something permanent. I want my children all under one roof, I want to be able to leave the country and visit our family in the States, I want to go out to dinner with you and not have to be back before the enforced curfew, I want to be able to look at the obituaries in the newspaper and not see the names and photos of people we know, I want to be able to get into the car without having to check underneath to make sure there isn't a bomb attached to the underside-"

"Ziva-" She turned to him, arms crossed over her chest.

"I want permanence, Tim. I want something permanent." He sighed, getting up and going to her. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, before stealing a soft kiss and taking a seat on the bed. Ziva moved away from the window, going to the small jewelry box Ari had given her for her fourteenth birthday and removing the simple Celtic knot earrings Asher had gotten her for her birthday their first year in Ireland. Tim opened the drawer, setting his watch inside and then quickly rummaged through it, searching for something. He hummed softly to himself, an old Irish lullaby Penny would sing to him and Sarah as children.

"Huh._ Tha's_ strange." She sighed, lulled by the soft lilting Irish of her husband's voice, so that she didn't- at first- catch the confusion in his voice as he stopped.

"Hmm?"

"_Tha's really_ strange. It should be_ 'ere_." That caught her attention, and she turned, watching as her husband pulled out the drawer and set it on the bed, removing everything and studying it.

"What's strange, baby?" She asked, going to him. He ignored her, studying something before setting it aside.

"You know that medallion Fiona gave me when I was a child? That first summer Penny brought Sar and I to Ireland?"

"When you were six?" She leaned against the wall, crossing her ankles, watching as he continued to rummage through everything. He nodded.

"Yeah. Penny managed to convince my father to let her take Sarah and I with her to visit Fiona and Siobhan in Ireland. It was the only time my father ever put up a fight with my grandmother. He threw a fit, but when Penny threatened to call CPS and tell them what he'd done to me- he hadn't started laying a hand on Sarah yet- he backed off. And she did call CPS, and whenever they came to inspect, Dad always convinced them that it was the ramblings of a crazy grandmother." He sighed. "Anyway, that first visit, Fiona gave it to me before we left. It's the only thing I have left from her."

Ziva furrowed her brow. She remembered Tim showing her something, but couldn't think what it was- a pendant of some kind, if she remembered correctly. A gold chain, with a silver medallion hanging from it, an engraved portrait of a man on it. A Saint... Saint... oh, what was his name? Saint...

"Your Saint Christopher medallion?" His head snapped up and he nodded, meeting her gaze finally. "What about it?"

"It's missing." She pushed herself away from the wall, joining him on the bed. She watched him search through everything again. "I keep it in my nightstand drawer; I've always kept it in my drawer, and now I can't find it."

"Did you misplace it, maybe? Take it out and... leave it somewhere?"

"No. I don't take it out! I keep it in that small tin cigarette case; he's the patron saint of travelers- and my family-"

"You were constantly traveling, as the children of the Ambassador." Ziva finished. He nodded.

"But I figured, now, we aren't traveling anymore. You know, we... we've settled down, we're raising the kids in a good neighborhood, a good town, and... and I don't need his protection anymore. At least... not as much as I did."

Ziva glanced down, her gaze taking everything in. Then, she picked up the tin holding it out to him. "Did you check the case, baby?" Tim took it, sighing as he opened it and held it up, an eyebrow raised.

The case was empty.

* * *

He took a deep breath. He shouldn't be doing this, but they couldn't turn back now. They'd come all this way. He glanced down at the pendant in his hand; it was almost as important as the Celtic Cross-

"Hey. Are _ye_ ready?" He turned, giving her a small smile as she took his hand. "_Ye_ aren't _backin'_ out, are _ye_? We've come all this way-"

"No. I... I'm ready. Let's do this."


	45. Chapter 45

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

The waves crashed over his feet, but he didn't move. The wind was warm against his skin, and he lost himself in the sound of the waves. "We _'ave t'_ go. We _canna_ stay. We're _bett'r_ off_ no' 'ere_,_ ye_ know _tha'_."

He sighed, as she sat beside him, linking her arm with his and laying her head on his shoulder. "Do you ever feel like you've made a mistake? Like you've screwed up your entire life over something that's never going to make anything better?" She lifted her head.

"_Wha' d' ye_ mean?" He shook his head and got up, holding out a hand.

"Never mind." She let him pull her to her feet, lacing their hands. "Come on."

* * *

_"I canna do this, Asher! Please_, don't _make_ me!" He sighed. Enya had dropped Devin off at Tim and Ziva's; her sister had called in a panic early that morning, and had begged her to come down to Cork; after asking Tim and Ziva if Devin could stay for the day, she'd left, knowing her daughter was in good hands. Ziva and Tim had moved the furniture around, exposing the hardwood floor they'd laid down after first moving to Ireland, so that Asher could help Devin with her therapy. She sat on the floor by the sofa, surrounded by pillows, having just lost her balance. Asher stood in the living room, near the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest. He glanced at his parents; Ziva and Tim shared a glance, before she went to her son, handing him a cup of coffee with a kiss to his temple before going to Devin and setting her cup on the floor beside the girl. T

he girl thanked her softly, and Ziva nodded, taking a seat on the sofa beside the girl. "You'll never know whether you can walk until you try to stand, Devin. You kept your balance yesterday-"

"But_ tha' 'twas yest'rday_, Mrs. McGee,_ an'_ there were bars I could _'old_ onto. I _'ave nothin' t' 'old_ onto _'ere_." Devin replied, looking up at her. Ziva sighed, getting up.

"_Ken_, you do, Devin." She held out a hand. The girl stared up at her, surprised. "Come on." Slowly, she reached up, taking Ziva's hands. Gently, the older woman helped her to her feet; she swayed, unused to the feeling of standing again after so many months in a wheelchair. When she felt that she was losing her balance, she wrapped her arms around Ziva's neck, leaning into the older woman; the former Israeli stumbled, but caught the girl, holding her close for a moment. "Shh. It's okay. I've got you." When she was sure the girl had calmed down, Ziva helped Devin turn around. The teen held tight to her hands, and took a deep breath. "I'm right here. We won't let you fall."

Tim was deep in conversation with Vance and Fornell, so Asher uncrossed his arms and went to Devin. She met his gaze. "Can _ye_... can _ye_ move closer, Asher?" He shook his head, staying back a towards the safe.

"No, Devin. The further away Asher is, the more steps you'll take, the faster you'll pick up walking again. I've got you here. I'm right behind you if you need me." Devin nodded, taking a shaky step forward. She hissed.

"It hurts."

"I know it hurts, but you have to push through it. Take a deep breath, and take another step. That's it... that's a good girl..." Asher watched as Devin did as his mother instructed. He reached out as she got closer, holding his hands out to her. "I'm gonna let you go, okay, Devin?" She shook her head.

"No. No, Mrs. McGee, please-"

"You'll be fine, Devin. Remember, it's all about balance. That's it-" She slowly let go of Devin's hands, staying close behind the girl as she stepped towards Asher. The boy watched her feet for a moment, nodding softly.

"You can do it. Come on, you can do it." She stumbled, her legs giving out; quickly, she wrapped her arms around Asher's neck, as he caught her. Taking a deep breath, she looked up into Asher's green eyes, catching his smile. "You did it." She returned his smile, turning to Ziva, who nodded to her, smiling.

"Ziva." She looked up, seeing Tim enter the living room. He nodded back towards the kitchen, and she nodded, excusing herself with a quick squeeze of Devin's shoulder before following Tim into the kitchen.

"What's wrong, baby?" She asked, finding Tim leaning against the counter, a cup of coffee in his hands.

"O'Reilly thinks she knows who's running the IUFI." Ziva turned, to see Agent Keavy O'Reilly on a small square of the screen; Vance and Gibbs, Tony and Bishop, as well as several other agents. They could see Agent Pride from New Orleans in the warehouse that served as their headquarters for the New Orleans' branch.

"How?" She asked, moving to take a seat in front of the computer. O'Reilly sighed, sitting back in her chair. She picked up a cup of coffee.

"The coversations Agent McGee downloaded from the tapes and sent, _'eld_ the voice of Eamon Connelly. _'e's_ a radicalist who _'as_ long believed that both sides of Ireland- the North _an'_ the Republic- should be united as one _an'_ break free from British control, from European control. "_'e 'as_ always been radical- _'e_ led a group at the University _o'_ Dublin that focused on_ overthrowin'_ the _gov'rnment_._ 'e_ tried_ t'_ get me_ t'_ join-"

"Whoa, slow down, O'Reilly." Tony cut in. "How do you... what do you mean..." Agent O'Reilly rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

"I_ 'ave_ _four degrees_, Agent DiNozzo- two from University of Dublin, one from New York University, _an'_ one from Julliard. Can I finish, please?" Tony instantly shut up, shocking both Tim and Ziva. The Tony they knew often argued until he turned blue. "As I was_ sayin'_, Eamon Connelly_ 'twas_ in_ me_ Political_ Gov'rnment_ class at Dublin. I remember him_ b'cause_ he constantly approached me; tried_ t'_ get me_ t'_ join _'the cause'_ as_ 'e_ called it_. Tha'_ summer,_ 'e an'_ some of_ 'is_ supporters were accused of _tryin' t'_ bomb the university. I _nev'r_ saw_ 'im aft'r tha'_. He _dinna_ return for the next_ semest'r_."

"But how do you know it's him?" Agent Hanna asked, from his desk in L.A. They listened silently as O'Reilly explained what Abby had found in the bomb fragments from the Parnell Massacre that the police had sent to Scotland Yard- who had then willingly given it to the FBI agents Fornell had sent over to Britain, who had taken them back to America, and Abby's lab.

"_'Tis_ the trademark of Eamon Connelly. _'is_ explosions kill only a few- the survivors,_ 'e_ picks off _wit'_ bullets_. Easi'r_ for_ 'im t'_ enjoy_ 'is_ kills." Ziva got up, going to the sink and leaning against it, struggling to catch her breath, to keep the bile down. Her son could have died in that explosion, could have died from that bullet if Emma O'Donnell and the other good Samaritans hadn't thought quickly that day. She felt the bile begin to rise again, and after a moment, she turned on the faucet and ducked her head under the cold spray.

_"Ziva!"_ She ignored Tim, or the others as they asked if everything was all right. All she focused on was the cold water on her head; silently, she told herself that everything was okay, that Asher was okay, that Zipporah and Liam were getting out of the IUFI...

_"You are stronger than you think, Zivaleh, and that strength you possess, that strength is what will get you, and your son, your family- for you will find him, when you are ready- through anything, through everything."_

Slowly, she reached up, turning off the faucet, Rivka's words ringing loudly in her head.


	46. Chapter 46

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Without an excuse, Tim shut off the conversation, closing the laptop and rushing to his wife as she straightened and slowly brushed her wet curls off her face. "What the hell was that, Zi?" She swallowed, closing her eyes briefly as he brushed his fingers against her cheek. She shook her head, pushing him away and rushing upstairs. The door slammed, and after a moment, Asher helped Devin back to the sofa and poked his head into the kitchen.

"_Abba_?" Tim turned. He shook his head, heading upstairs. Asher watched him go, before going back into the living room.

"_Wha's a'matt'r_?" Devin asked, as he joined her on the sofa. The boy shook his head.

"_Abba_ won't say." She nodded, laying her head on his shoulder. A moment passed, before she looked up at him.

"Thank _ye_, for _helpin'_ me today." He smiled softly, shaking his head.

"Not a problem." She leaned up, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. He drank her in for several minutes before pulling away and pulling her close. She buried her face in his shoulder, and as he wrapped his arms around her, he glanced back towards the stairs.

* * *

She lay on the bed, shaking, face buried in the pillow. Jethro lay on the floor beside her, licking her hand in comfort. She choked on a sob, struggling to understand how she could have let her daughter get so tangled up in something this dangerous, this deadly. Her mother had never let her run this wild-

Then again, all she'd done was sneak out of a dinner with Tim, sleep with him and get pregnant, having their son nine months later, in Be'er Sheva, disowned from her father and basically alone.

But there had been no murders, no bomb attacks, no outright massacres like there were here in the Republic. Things had been different, when she was pregnant with Asher, when he'd been born- and she'd been in Israel, not Ireland. Violence was expected, practically celebrated, in the Israeli state- so much so that they had stopped peace talks with Palestine.

_She looked up, hearing the familiar whistling that signaled a drone passing overhead. Though Ari had requested she stay down and rest, seeing as she'd just given birth the day before, Ziva found that staying down was the last thing she wanted to do. So she'd taken a book and a pillow and sat on the back porch, against the rail, letting the sun warm her back. Rivka was in the living room with Tali, showing her how to hold the baby; giving her oldest daughter a little time to herself._

_Another whistle filled the air, and after a moment, she climbed to her feet, closing her book and grabbing her pillow to head into the house, but she stopped, hearing Tali's voice. "Ima, what is Ziva's tummy still big? Asher is not inside her anymore, so why is she not small again?" She stopped, leaning against the doorframe, out of their sight, since the sofa faced away from this door, holding her breath for her mother's reply. Rivka sighed._

_"Talia, sweetheart, there-"_

_"I know about snakes and caves, Ima. You told me five years ago, remember?" Rivka nodded. "But you have not answered my question." Tali glanced down at her nephew. "Why is Zivaleh still so big? She should be small now." _

_"Talia, you have to understand, that pregnancy is like a corset-"_

_"But Zivaleh did not get smaller, she got bigger." Rivka chuckled softly at her youngest daughter's bluntness, much like her sister._

_"I know, Tali. What I meant, was that pregnancy also causing the organs to shift, much like a corset does. Your sister's uterus grew as this little one grew inside her, forcing her organs to move and shift to make room for him as he got ready to be born." She gently reached out, brushing her finger against her grandson's cheek. The baby stared up at her with bright blue eyes. "Now that he is here, her uterus has to return to normal size, and her organs have to shift back into place. It takes time for everything to return to normal. A few weeks to a month, at most. As soon as Asher was born, her body started shifting back to normal."_

_"So... in a few weeks, Zivaleh could look like she was never pregnant?" Rivka nodded. "Oh." The child seemed to think for a moment, before the baby started to fuss, and Rivka quickly took her grandson back from her youngest daughter. Then, the child turned to her. "Can I go play now, Ima? Please?" Rivka chuckled, nodding. _

_"Go on." As the child dashed off, Rivka gently adjusted her hold on her grandson. She stopped, listening. "You can come out of hiding now." Ziva froze, surprised her mother had known she was there._

_"How did you-" A moment passed, before she stepped into the room._

_"I am a mother, Zivaleh. And a mother knows what her child often does not." Rivka turned to her oldest daughter as she moved further into the room. "You will learn too, in time." As Ziva took a seat beside her mother, Rivka glanced down at the baby. "I believe he is hungry."_

_Ziva shook her head. "How do you know-" Rivka met her daughter's gaze._

_"I have done this twice before, my darling. Remember that." Ziva nodded, and slowly lowered the strap of her dress. Gently, Rivka laid the boy in his mother's arms, and watched her daughter, helping her adjust once the baby had latched on._

_"I do not understand, Ima. How am I going to get through this?" She looked up at her mother, fear blatant in her eyes. "I cannot raise his son alone. I do not know the first thing about raising a baby, let alone by myself. I need him here, this..." She looked down at the baby nursing at her breast. "This is his son. He needs his Abba."_

_"Ziva, you must accept that he may never meet his son." She shook her head, tears in her eyes._

_"No. He has to. I need him, Ima. Asher needs... Asher needs his father..." Gently, Rivka reached up, brushing the tears off her daughter's cheeks. _

_"Then, maybe one day, he will have him. Ziva look at me." Slowly, her daughter tore her gaze away from her son. "You are no alone; Tali and Ari and I will help you as best we can. And when you are ready to find him, you will." She shook her head. _

_"I don't have-"_

_"Not right now, you don't. But one day, when you are older, when your son is older, when you have had the time to raise this little one and have gathered the strength, you will find him. I know you will. My Savta always told me that 'a broken heart is only waiting for the right time to find it's missing piece. Once it finds the other piece, it will no longer be broken, it will be whole.' You have to wait, Zivaleh, you have to wait for the right time to find the missing piece of your heart. To find him. Once you are ready, you will find him, and your heart will be whole. Trust me, Zivaleh."_

"Zi? Baby?" She slowly lifted her head, meeting her husband's gaze. A moment passed, before he climbed up behind her and lay down, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her close. "Talk to me, baby. Please."

"I... What..."

"What's got you so upset, baby, huh? What's going on in this beautiful head of yours?" He gently brushed her hair off her cheeks, off her forehead and neck, pressing soft kisses to her damp hair. Slowly, she turned to face him, sniffling.

"What if he kills Zipporah? What if he gets our baby girl into something she can't get out of? What if he figures out-"

"Shh... hush. None of that is going to happen. Okay? He's not gonna get to Zipporah; we won't let him. _I_ won't let him. I'd die before I let Eamon Connelly harm our baby girl. Understand? He's not going to hurt her. Gibbs, and Tony and Vance... they won't let him. I promise."


	47. Chapter 47

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

He looked up, seeing the memorial mural painted on the side of a building at Parnell Square, left for the victims of the massacre. Their names were painted in script beneath their faces. The buildings damaged had since been torn down and new ones built in their place; the bloodstains on the ground left from the victims had been scrubbed, but still, remained. His gaze move over the top of the mural, reading the words arching over the faces-_ How Many More Must Die?_

It was silent, Parnell Square had since been avoided, and was no longer the bustling street it once was. People usually just came to read the names on the mural, and the leave flowers or other things in remembrance. Slowly, his eyes moved down to read the script arching below the names and faces- _When Will This End?_

"Brother was at the march. He was hurt."

"Asher? _'ow d' ye_ know?" She asked, joining him and taking his hand.

"Because I saw his name in the list of injured in the paper." He took a deep breath; he longed to go home, to see his brother and sister, his parents, to check on them, to make sure they were all okay. But he couldn't go home; Clontarf wasn't their home anymore, it wasn't his home anymore; Dublin was their home. "I don't even know if he survived or..."

"Well,_ 'e_ is _no'_ on_ th'_ mural, so we know_ 'e_ survived._ Tha's_ good, _righ'_?" He nodded, turning to meet her gaze.

"I just... I want to see them again..." She pulled him close, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him close. He buried his face in her hair, tightening his grip on her waist.

"I miss_ 'em_ too. Believe me, I miss _'em_ too."

* * *

The sand was soft beneath her feet, the waves crashed over her ankles, but just because the sand was soft didn't mean she wanted to practice walking on the beach. Asher sighed, meeting her gaze. "Come on, Devi. I'm right here." She shook her head, even as she felt the tug of a smile at his nickname for her. Asher had just started calling her 'Devi,'- a name her mother usually called her, and it felt nice, hearing the name from his lips.

"No." He sighed.

"You have to try."

"I _'ave_, Asher. It hurts! It hurts _t'_ walk!"

"You think I don't know that? Of course I know it hurts! But you have to push through it! Remember what_ Ima_ said?" He went to her, kneeling beside her. "Devi, you'll never be able to walk until you learn to stand." He held out a hand. "Come on, I'll help. I promise, I won't let you fall." She took a deep breath, and after a moment, took Asher's hand and let him pull her up. She stood, struggling to get her balance; slowly, Asher walked further onto the packed sand, and Devin followed, taking small steps until she was standing on the packed sand. "See? You're standing. You're doing good." She nodded, glancing down at her feet before looking up at him. "I'm gonna let go, okay?"

"No." She swallowed. "Asher, please, don't_ le'_ go."

"You'll be fine. I know you will." Slowly, he stepped back, gently letting go of her hands as he moved away from her. She whimpered; her legs were shaky and she struggled to keep her balance. "Come on, Devi, take a step. One at a time. I'm right here. I'm not that far away." Slowly, she did as he instructed, each step hurt, each bend of her knees, each movement of her legs sent tremors through her body, making her shaky as she moved closer to Asher. But each time she got close enough, each time she reached out to grab his hand, he would move another few steps out of reach, forcing her to chase him.

"Asher, stop _movin'_!" He laughed, walking backwards, keeping his gaze on hers.

"Look at me, Devin, not at your feet." He instructed, stopping. Something flashed through his mind, a memory, long buried, of his mother, grandmother and aunt with him in the house in Be'er Sheva.

_"Come to me, my angel." The twelve-month-old shook his head, holding tight to Rivka's hands, burying his face in her legs._ _He glanced at his mother, the blue and purple of her wrap skirt was more interesting than walking at this moment._

_"You can do it, darling." Rivka whispered to the boy; he looked up at her, before turning to see Tali sitting on the edge of the coffee table, camera in hand. _

_"Ziva, just-"_

_"No, Tali. He knows how to walk; he just needs to learn how to walk by himself, because I will not always be here to hold his hand." Ziva turned back to him, shifting until she was sitting back on her haunches. She held out her hands, reaching for the little boy. "Come to me, Asher. Come to me, angel. Please." The little boy watched as his mother reached for him, and after a moment, he looked up at Rivka, who knelt beside him. She pressed a kiss to his cheek._

_"Go on, my darling. Go to Ima. You can do it." Slowly, he moved away from Savta, taking a shaky step towards his mother, still holding tight to her hands. His eyes watched his mother intently, and she smiled, nodding softly._

_"That is it, my angel. You are doing good. Keep going. Come on." Slowly, gently, Rivka released her grandson's hands, though she stayed behind him in case he fell. The baby stumbled with the lost of contact, but didn't fall, whimpering softly. "You can do it, you can do it, my angel." Moments passed, before the baby stumbled, falling into his mother's lap with a whimper. Ziva laughed, scooping her son up and gently tapping his nose. "You did it, my angel! I knew you could." She pressed a soft kiss to her son's cheek, as Tali quickly snapped another photo._

He was surprised that he remembered that moment, and had even been more surprised when Ziva had once shown him the photos Tali had taken of that day; it reminded him of the scenes in _The Secret Garden_, when Dickon and Mary taught Collin to walk in the garden. It was a story Ziva had often read to him as a child in Israel, and when she'd bought the movie, they'd watched it over and over again, until he knew it by heart. Of all children's classics, _The Secret Garden_ was his favorite.

The waves crashed around his feet, and he looked up in time to see Devin stumble over her feet as the water crashed around her ankles and knocked her to the sand._ "Devin!"_ He rushed to her, dropping beside her, suddenly worried that she'd gotten hurt. "Are you okay?" She looked up, nodding, taking a deep breath.

"_Aye_, ah... _me_ legs are... they hurt. I... can we go?" He nodded, moving to stand, but stopped.

"Hey, Devi," She brushed the sand off her legs, not paying attention. "Devin." He gently tapped her shoulder. "Look." She turned, following his gaze.

"_Wha'_ am I _lookin'_ at?" She asked, confused, turning back to him. He sighed.

"Look at how far you got." The girl turned back, finally seeing where their things were, and the length between the two.

"I... I_ walked tha'_ far?" He nodded.

"_Ken_. I knew you could do it." He replied, grinning. She reached up, taking her face in his hands as she kissed him, before throwing her arms around him hard enough that he landed on his back. He laughed, meeting her gaze. She blushed, whispering,

"Thank_ ye_, Asher." Gently, he reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"No problem, Devi." She leaned down with a smile, capturing his lips in another soft kiss.


	48. Chapter 48

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

She dug her nails into his back, moaning softly as he hit just the right spot; he pulled her closer, trailing a hand over her thigh as he tangled his other hand in her dark curls. She arched her back, pressing her soft, feminine curves into his hard planes, enjoying the feel of his body against hers. She had dreamed of nights like this back in Israel, imagined the feel of his body around hers, his lips on hers, but every morning when she'd awoken, she'd found herself alone. It was wonderful to wake in the morning and find that her dreams were no longer dreams. She trailed her other hand over his back, tracing the tattoo before digging her nails deeper into his skin.

A groan escaped her throat as he pushed himself deeper into her; nights like this had been few and far between in the last couple years. With everything going on-

"Mmm... I need more of you..." He chuckled, capturing her lips in a deep kiss before pulling away to kiss her neck. His lips trailed down the chain of her necklace, before brushing against the Star that rested just above her breasts. One hand moved to trial over her stomach, brushing against the light marks left from her pregnancies, the art left from the three most precious gifts she'd ever received. She hummed softly in contentment as he continued his trail of kisses down her sweat-soaked skin, brushing soft kisses over the mounds of her breasts before moving down to kiss his way over every inch of skin on her stomach. She pushed herself into him until they seemed to melt together, to become one. What was that old Shakespearian line? Something backs... no, that wasn't right...

_Beast with two backs._

She had read Shakespeare in school, and later, in college, but had never understood the meaning behind the phrase until the night of the embassy dinner and ball. That night, according to her father, had been the first night of her ruining. Refusing to abort her child afterward, and hiding the growing swell of her belly for months after had been a continuation of her ruining, her destruction of the David family, in her father's eyes. A soft chuckle escaped her throat, and she shook her head. Funny, her family- the one she'd been born to- had been destroyed; had imploded on itself, while hers was still here. In tattered ruins, yes, but still, the family she and Tim had created had lasted longer than her father's.

He pulled away from her silky skin, looking up at her. "_Wha's_ so funny?" Her head rolled back to face him, and she met his eyes, smiling as the Irish lilt once again took over his words. She shook her head.

"Nothing, baby. Just thinking of how much I've missed this."

It was rare that she let her guard, down and allowed him to take control and be on top, but sometimes- like now- she wanted to be pampered and so was willing to give over her control in exchange for his seduction.

Tonight, was his turn to seduce her, of which he took full and_ complete _advantage.

Eventually, they collapsed on the bed, struggling to catch their breath and not quite ready to break their connection yet. A moment passed, before he reached up, brushing a wild strand of hair off her face with a soft smile. She released a breath, letting her head shift to the side as she caught her breath before turning her gaze back to him.

Her eyes locked with his; she wrapped her arms around him, refusing to let him pull away, enjoying the warm familiarity of his weight on top of her. It was nights like this, when they lay skin-to-skin, that she loved. Despite the years that had passed, the nights when they made love were still nights she looked forward to, she loved. She ran a hand up his spine, tracing the tattoo on his back, fingers moving through the Celtic circular knot before moving to trace the Star of David. Her fingers skimmed over the scars that ran the length of his back, and he winced; phantom pains that came and went like the waves crashing on the beach. "I'm sorry, baby."

He shrugged, leaning down and brushing a kiss to the inside of her breast. "Not your fault, Zi." He sighed. "I've missed our nights like this. They've been too few and far between." She nodded, as her fingers began to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. She slowly brushed her fingers through his hair, searching his gaze. She swallowed.

"Do... do you think... do you..." She took a deep breath. "Do you think... we will get out of this... alive?" Tim furrowed his brow.

"Ziva, where did that come from?" His wife swallowed, tightening her grip on him, not wanting to break contact yet. She shook her head, leaning up to kiss him deeply instead of answering. But he pulled away, searching her gaze. "What's bouncing around in that beautiful head of yours?" She sighed.

"I'm worried, Tim. Things are getting worse, and I just... I keep thinking of that medallion of yours... who would take it? Who would_ need_ it besides you?" Slowly, Tim pulled away; shifting until he lay beside her, facing her. She turned to him, meeting his gaze. He sighed.

"I don't know, Zi. I can't think of anyone that we know that-" He stopped; shifting onto his back and running his hands over his face. "My God, _'ow_ did I _no'_ see this _earli'r_?" She pushed herself to her elbow as Tim moved to get up.

"Tim? Tim_, stop_!" She grabbed his arm as he stood. He turned back to her. "It is near one in the morning. Wait until tomorrow, please." He tugged away, but she tugged back until he relented and slipped back under the covers with her. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "Whatever you are upset about, can wait until morning, baby." He tried to pull away, but she tightened her grasp. "Ken. It can wait. Morning will come soon enough."

* * *

Asher slowly pulled away from the door; even through the wood, he could hear the worry in his parents' voices. He knew that his parents had a lot on their plate, especially with Liron disappearing like he did and Zipporah going AWOL, but the blatant fear in his mother's voice- Ziva was so strong, so brave, that it didn't seem right to hear the pained fear in her voice- and he didn't know how to make it better.

He'd awoken and taken Jethro out; sitting on the back step, thinking of what he could do to lessen the load of worry on his parents' shoulders, but had come up with nothing. As he returned with the dog, he'd passed by his parents' room, hearing voices that caused him to double back. The worry that coated his father's words sent his heart bouncing in his throat, and he wished desperately that he could do something- anything- to help.

After a moment, he tugged lightly on the green ribbon, before pushing away from the door and slipping down the hall.


	49. Chapter 49

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: I've got a story I'm working on that's on Archive of Our Own called _'Directing Chaos'_\- an alternate universe story where McGee is Director of NCIS, and Ziva is Director of Mossad- that's based off a conversation Tim and Ziva have in Chapter 26 of _Beat of Your Heart_. I may upload it here once I finish with _Skyfall_. **

**Thanks to puppypants for reviewing 40, 43 and 48; Guest for reviewing 47; Reader for reviewing 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47 and 48. **

"Zippa." She burrowed further into her pillow, clutching Mr. Bunny Rabbit close, her back to the door. "Zippa!" Groaning softly, she pushed him away, burrowing deeper into her pillow. "Zippa,_ hit'orer_." When she kicked him hard in the stomach, he rolled his eyes, aggravated. Leaning close, he grabbed a handful of his sister's dark curls, wrapped them around his hand, and pulled once. "Zipporah,_ wake up_!" When nothing happened, he tugged again, harder, jolting the girl awake with a cry.

She sat up, knocking heads with Asher. Her brother sat back, only to find himself sitting on the floor, having let go of her hair. He rubbed his forehead, glaring up at her. "You have a hard head, you know that, Zippa?" She took a deep breath, relaxing as she realized who it was, and pulled Mr. Bunny Rabbit into her arms.

"Brother, what are you doing here?" She quickly checked the time on her phone- like their parents, all the kids were used to getting up at odd hours, and had gotten accustomed to the NCIS time schedule, even though Tim and Ziva no longer worked or lived in, or had much of anything to do with, America- groaning softly. "It's ten before one, Asher. Is there a _reason_ why you decided to wake me up ten minutes before one a.m.?"

Asher groaned as he stood, perching on his sister's bed. "_Ken_, so I could get kicked in the stomach and fall off the bed." He replied, sarcasm dripping from every word. She glared at him.

"I didn't know it was you." She replied, scooting closer and wrapping her arms around her brother's shoulders quickly. Asher sighed an reached up, squeezing her hands. Slowly, she pulled away, sitting back and folding her legs under herself, placing Mr. Bunny Rabbit in her lap. "So, why did you come wake me up?"

Asher sighed. "I took Jethro out, and when I came back, I passed by _Ima_ and _Abba_'s room-"

"So? Your room is right down the hall, Brother, I don't-"

"_Ima_'s afraid we won't get out of this alive. She said that things are getting worse. She's scared, Zippa." The girl looked up, surprised.

"_Ima_ never gets scared."

"I know." He took a deep breath. "Zippa, we _have_ to do something. _Ima_ and _Abba_ are going to make themselves sick worrying about this."

"What can we possibly do, Brother?" Asher sighed, shrugging.

"I don't know. I honestly don't know."

* * *

He couldn't believe it, but it was the only thing that made sense. Neither Asher nor Zipporah would need the medallion, and he and Ziva didn't use it. It had been a gift from Fiona when he and Sarah had first come to Ireland- he'd been six, and Sarah had been a year. For years, Tim had worn the medallion around his neck; he'd been wearing it the night he and Ziva fled the embassy dinner, and had worn it to every crime scene and stakeout they worked at NCIS. He'd worn it when he went after Ziva, tracking her to Israel, when they'd gone to Somalia... but now, here in Ireland, he didn't need the medallion.

But he had a feeling he knew who did.

Ziva looked up from her book as Tim rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen. He tugged the book from her hands, setting it on the table, before taking a seat beside her. "Tim, what-"

"I know who took it." She stared at him like he'd lost his mind.

"What?"

"I know who took my medallion, Zi."

"You do? Tim, baby, that's great. Who?" He took a deep breath, squeezing her hands, suddenly afraid of how she'd react. She watched him, watched as he studied her hands, tracing the smooth skin of the backs of her hands, his index finger running over the smooth edge of her wedding ring. "Tim? Who took your medallion?"

Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet hers, swallowing thickly. "Liron."

Ziva reared back, surprised to hear that answer come from her husband's lips. "I... I'm _sorry_? Did... did you_ just..._ that's _impossible_. Liron... he... he hasn't been back in Clontarf since he ran off..." Sighing, Tim stood, going to the counter and leaning against it.

"It has to be him." He heard the chair scrape against the stone as she stood.

"_It's not possible!_ My son-"

_"It's the only thing that makes any sense, Ziva!"_ He snapped, turning to her. She instantly shut her mouth, seeing the tears in his eyes. "It's the_ only thing_ that makes any _conceivable_ amount of sense. Who else would need it? Not us. Zipporah and Liam are getting out of the IUFI, the only one of our kids still in either group is Liron!"

Ziva took a deep breath, not wanting to believe it. But what her husband said made sense. They had no idea where Liron was, if he was okay, or even if he was still alive. For all they knew, he could have been killed but the IUFI or even the_ Gardai_. As far as Tim and Ziva knew, their son was dead. "Tim, he hasn't gotten into contact with us since he left. For all we know, someone could have broken in and _stolen_ the medallion-" She said, going to him and taking his face in her hands. Tim shook his head, pulling away.

"It's Liron, Zi. I _know_ it. I just... I can't explain it, but... I... I just know that Liron took the medallion." He took a deep breath, tears in his eyes. "Don't you believe me?"

She went to him, wrapping her arms tight around his neck, despite the niggling doubt and the fear at the back of her mind. "Of course I do, baby. Of course I do."


	50. Chapter 50

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: I was thinking, the image of Cote and her little sister could pass for an image of Ziva and Zipporah... **

Zipporah looked up as Asher entered the living room. Tim and Ziva had taken Jethro down to the beach, leaving the kids at home for a couple hours. "_Abba_'s figured it out." He took a seat on the sofa beside his sister; she barely glanced up from her book.

"Figured out what?"

"Who took his medallion."

"Really?" Another page turned. "Who took it?"

"Liron."

"That's-" Zipporah stopped mid-page turn, her green gaze, shifting to her oldest brother. "Wait, did... did you just say... that... that _Brother_ took Abba's medallion?" Asher nodded. "But..._ why_?" He shrugged.

"How the hell should I know? Clearly he needs it for something. Probably to get him through all the insane crap the leaders of the ARBI are making him do." He got up, going to the bookshelf near the TV. He quickly scanned the titles, before his gaze stopped on a photograph of his mother and sister. Taken not long after they moved to Ireland, it was a photograph of Ziva and Zipporah, taken at Fiona's house, when they'd gone up to visit her; it had been nice, and they'd eaten outside in the backyard. At one point, Zipporah had taken a chair and moved it into the shade of a tree in the backyard; by the time the photo was taken, all shade had disappeared.

It was one of the rare occasions when Zipporah had decided to wear a skirt, and the green material brought out the green in her eyes, and she'd paired it with a pink t-shirt and sandals. The dark curls all the McGee children possessed hung down around her face. And right behind her, stood Ziva, her arms folded and resting atop her daughter's head. She wore one of Tim's white button downs over a pair of black leggings, her own dark hair down around her shoulders in loose curls. Both were smiling, those infectious David smiles that Tali and Ziva were known for lighting up their faces.

He looked up as his parents returned, Jethro in tow. The boy watched as his mother released her hair from its ponytail and shook it out, the long curls tumbling about her shoulders and back. She was truly beautiful, and he found himself wondering how his mother would have turned out had she not been raised around death and violence. If his parents had been allowed to be together as teenagers, and if they'd both been raised in happy homes... would he and his siblings even exist? He shuddered, something told him that if they'd been raised in loving homes, neither he nor his siblings would be here.

"Hey my angel, what are you up to?" Asher shrugged, silent, watching as his mother headed into the kitchen, beckoning Jethro to follow. He watched his father go to Zipporah, pressing a kiss to her forehead before following his mother. As his sister returned to her book, he followed his parents into the kitchen; Ziva was setting down a bowl of water for Jethro, and Tim was working on the next chapter of his book. He studied his parents, watching as his mother straightened and went to Tim, wrapping her arms around him from behind. He reached up, gently squeezing her hand.

"I know..." They both looked up, waiting.

"You know what, sweetheart?" Tim asked, bringing Ziva's hand to his lips.

"I... I know that... that Liron took your medallion,_ Abba_." His father started, surprise filling his green eyes.

"How... how do you-"

"I heard you talking. It's the only thing that makes sense." His parents shared glances, before Ziva pulled away, going to her son. She wrapped the boy in her arms, holding him close. Asher sniffled. "_Why won't he come home?"_ She reached up, running her fingers through her son's curls.

"Maybe Brother thinks he doesn't have a home here anymore." Zipporah whispered; she'd come into the kitchen to get a glass of water, and watched as her brother broke down. Asher clung tight to Ziva; he buried his face in her curls, shoulders shaking with repressed sobs. Their mother held him close, stroking his hair and humming softly to him. "_Ima_-" But she stopped when Tim gently lay a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head. He'd gotten up, turning off the kettle, and motioned for her to follow him.

* * *

"I don't understand, _Abba_." Tim sighed. He'd let Ziva know that he was going to take Zipporah for a walk before leaving, and they'd stopped at their small coffee shop before heading to the beach. Now, they wandered along the beach, away from the chaos and death that still rocked their small seaside town. "_Abba_?" Tim glanced down at his daughter; she'd slipped her small hand into his, trying to get his attention. He took a deep breath, squeezing her hand.

"Asher has always been the strong one; he's tried to be. He's a lot like _Ima_. When he was growing up in Israel, he was always strong for her, because he never wanted to see her upset."

"So..."

"So his breakdown today, baby girl, was deserved." He sighed, turning his gaze back to the sea. "I just wish it wasn't needed. None of you need to be going through this, not now. _Ima_ and I... our generation was raised around violence- Desert Storm, the war in Afghanistan, Nine-Eleven. That's all our generation knew, was violence- but you... your generation doesn't deserve this." She wrapped her arms around him, curling close. Tim rubbed his daughter's back, thinking. "I love you, baby girl."

Zipporah swallowed, a bad feeling blossoming in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

"_Tha's_ it! _Tha's_ the key!"

Agent Michael "Mike" Cross looked up from the recordings he was going through; the various recordings Agents McGee and David had downloaded and sent to them, to help with the investigation into the arms smuggling. He glanced at Bet, who sat across from him in their warehouse above the coffee shop in the Seattle office. Unlike D.C. or L.A., the Seattle office was smaller, the four desks taking up residence on the second floor of a building that housed a coffee shop right below. No cushy elevators or stylish tangerine walls for the Seattle siblings of the NCIS family.

"What's it, Keaves?" Elizabeth "Bet" Jones, a computer expert that rival Tim, watched with worry in her blue eyes as her Irish-American colleague bounced in her seat, squealing in excitement. She'd seen Keavy excited before, but never like this. The woman was practically hitting the ceiling in excitement. The woman ignored her, quickly scrolling through something with an excited,

"We've _go' 'im_!"

"Elaborate, O'Reilly." Mike and Bet both looked up as their Team Leader, Mai Anh Murray- a Chinese-American fourth generation American and one of the Federal Fifteen- fifteen of the best agents NCIS had ever coughed up in the late eighties and early nineties- entered, a carry holder of coffee in her hands; the smell of fresh ground coffee wafted in through the closing door. "What do you have?" She asked, setting a cup on Mike and Bet's desk each before going to Keavy. She pulled out a cup and held it in her other hand, waiting for the woman to stop reacting like an excited fan about to meet Justin Bieber before she handed the hot beverage over.

"Okay,_ ye_ see these-" Mike zoned out momentarily as Keavy explained in thick Irish lilt some complicated techno-babble that involved their case; until Mai stopped her. "_Bas'cally_, these are the coordinates for _th' nex'_ drop off _an'_ pick up_ o'_ weapons. Eamon Connelly likes_ t'_ be there_ t'_ make sure _th' invent'ry 'tis_ correct. Look,_ 'e_ is _gonna_ be_ a'_ _th' _border_ o'_ Northern Ireland in a week._ Tis_ a major pick up; Connelly _wouldn'_ miss it for_ th'_ world."

Mai thought a moment, digesting the information, before holding it out to the younger woman. "Good job, O'Reilly. I'll let Agent Gibbs know so he can get a team-"

"No. I'm_ goin'_." They all turned to her, startled at her declaration.

"What do you mean you're going, Keavy?" Bet asked, raising an eyebrow. The other woman bit her lip.

"I'm _goin'_ back_ t'_ Ireland. I'm _gonna_ lead _th'_ raid when we catch Eamon Connelly_ an'_ bring down the ARBI _an' th'_ IUFI. I am_ gonna_ be the one_ t'_ handcuff_ tha'_ bastard." Mai started to protest, but Keavy plowed on. "Mai, I know,_ bu'_ these are_ me_ people. I _canna jus'_ let someone else go_ aft'r 'im. An'... an'_ even though I_ don'_ know Agent McGee or Agent David, they... they're still _me_ people, _'tis_ still _me_ country,_ an'_ I'm _no'_ _gonna_ let them fight alone. Mai, I need t' do this. Please."

The team leader studied her for a moment; the Irish pride, the Irish fight, was deeply ingrained in her youngest agent. Keavy had as deep a sense of Irish patriotism as Bet and Mike had American patriotism. The only difference was that Keavy's sense of duty was to two flags, not just one- the American and the Irish. And right now, the Irish was winning out. After a moment of tense silence, she nodded, handing her the phone.

"Call Agent Gibbs, tell him what you've found, and that you'll be on the next flight out to Dublin." With a grin, Keavy took the phone.


	51. Chapter 51

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Sorry, I had this done, I just haven't had time to post it. **

**A/N: This story is almost coming to a close...**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 49 and 50.**

Keavy looked up. It felt good to be back in Ireland, if even only for a little while. She was supposed to be meeting Agents McGee and David at the Dublin Airport- because of the nature of the flight, SecNav had given use of her plane, explaining to the air controllers in Dublin the significance of why her plane and the agents aboard needed to be allowed entrance into the country- and as she glanced around, she suddenly realized that she wasn't sure who she was looking for. She had only ever seen Tim and Ziva over Skype, and the images, while good, had been grainy. Looking around again, her gaze landed on a young woman with long dark hair pulled back in a French braid, and acting on instinct, she made her way towards the woman. "Um, excuse me? Are_ ye_-"

The woman's head snapped up, and Keavy recognized the dark eyes. "You must be Agent O'Reilly. Seattle office,_ ken_?" The woman asked, holding out a hand. Keavy nodded, taking her hand. "Ziva."

"_Aye_, Agent David-"

"Ziva, please. My husband and I are no longer agents at NCIS, so it's not necessary." Then, she turned, tugging on the man's arm; he finished his phone call and turned to his wife, and Keavy recognized the bright green eyes that had belonged to Gibbs' Agent McGee. "Tim, Agent O'Reilly is here." He gave her a warm smile, quickly shaking her hand as he slid his phone back into his pocket.

"Sorry about that. Asher was having a meltdown because Jethro is eager to go out for a walk, but with the shootings being so close-" He sighed. "Welcome to our lives, Agent O'Reilly." She chuckled softly.

"I know _wha' ye're goin'_ through. I spent majority of _me_ childhood in the North- I am familiar _wi'_ this type_ o'_ violence. I_ though'_ I left it behind, _bu'_-"

"It never really leaves you." Tim finished; Keavy nodded. He took a deep breath. "Come on, let's get home."

The drive was taken in silence, the occasional questions being asked and answered, but for the most part, absolute silence. So Keavy was unable to keep her tears away at the sight of the simple cottage- two story, as typical in these small, coastal towns- that was eerily reminiscent of the one she'd spent her childhood in. Her parents had a cottage in Northern Ireland, that she'd been born in, spent her childhood in, at least, until her mother had been killed, when her father decided that living in the house was too painful and moved them both back to America, where he was from. Though, as she'd gotten older, she'd spent summers in Ireland, eventually going to college at Dublin University.

She turned as Ziva took her hand and squeezed. "Thinking?" She nodded at the former Israeli, seeing herself in the other woman's dark eyes. So Ziva had suffered as she had, the loss of loved ones. Tim unlocked the front door, slipping inside and quickly checking before whistling to get their attention and allowing them to enter first. Once the door was shut, Tim called out,

"Asher? Zipporah? We're home." Keavy looked up as two heads peeked around the wall, bright green eyes drinking in the newcomer; a German Shepard's head soon followed, tongue lolling out as it watched and growled softly at the agent. Eventually, the kids came down the stairs, and Keavy realized they weren't kids, but teenagers, who rushed towards their parents, throwing their arms around their mother. Tim turned back to the dog, beckoning him forward. "Come here, Jet." Slowly, the dog made his way over to Tim, nuzzling against his leg. Tim chuckled, kneeling down to scratch behind the dog's ear.

"_Ye 'ave_ a beautiful family, Agent McGee." Keavy whispered, memories of her own parents- her father, in the States, and her mother, long dead- flooding her mind.

"We're missing one." The girl replied, burrowing further into her mother's side.

"Our youngest son, Liron." Tim clarified. "He's Zipporah's older brother, and he... he ran off... several months ago to be with a girl. Joined the ARBI." Keavy nodded, noticing the pain in Ziva's eyes- a pain that was clearly there whenever anyone mentioned the boy. After a moment, Ziva took Keavy's things.

"I'll put your things in the guest room, Agent O'Reilly. Do you know where the others agents are staying?" She nodded; the rest of the team that Vance had sent over were staying at a small inn just outside Clontarf, to set up the various things they needed to take down the ARBI- Keavy was staying with Tim and Ziva, partially as a guard, and partially so she could get better acquainted with the kids- since Zipporah was one of the informants- so Vance had put her with his two former agents.

"Agent D- Ziva." The woman turned back. "Thank _ye_." She nodded, disappearing upstairs.

* * *

Asher didn't think twice when he slipped out to get the mail; Jethro followed behind, keeping close to his master and mistress's oldest, to protect him, as he'd always done. It was custom, for Jethro to follow when the oldest of Tim and Ziva's young pups went out front; of all the kids, Jethro was most attached to Asher, though no one knew why. Maybe it was because the oldest boy had been the one that struggled to adjust to America, to having a father after eight years without, the most. Either way, Jethro always made sure the boy went out and returned without incident.

As the canine ambled after his companion, no one had any idea of the chaos about to ensue. All anyone knew for certain was a growl, the ringing of a shot, a yelp of pain, and a scream, that sent the others running from the house.


	52. Chapter 52

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: You find out in this chapter that Tim and Keavy have a connection... a very _specific_ connection.**

_"Abba! Ima!"_

The sight that met the four- for Keavy and Zipporah had stopped their conversation when they'd heard Asher's scream- seemed to stop all time, if momentarily. Asher sat on the grass, Jethro's head in his lap. The dog was bleeding, trying desperately to get up despite the wounds in his leg and side. "Zipporah, call the vet, _ach'shav_. Did you_ not hear me_, Zipporah? _Now_!" She demanded, turning to her daughter. Once the girl was gone, Ziva rushed to her son, kneeling beside him as Tim and Keavy came back with a bowl of water and towels.

"Ima-"

"What happened, angel? _Asher Malachi, look at me_!" Ziva demanded, taking her son's face in her hands, forcing him to look at her instead of the dog as Tim and Keavy kept pressure on the wounds. "Talk to me!"

"I... I... got the mail and... and... some... I didn't see his face... he... held up a gun..."

"Abba?" The others turned as Zipporah came back outside. "He said to... to bring Jethro in..." Tim nodded, standing. After several minutes and some coaxing, Tim was able to get Asher to let go of the dog, and he and Keavy lifted the animal into the car. Once they were gone, Ziva led her children back into the house, leading them upstairs and pushing Asher into the bathroom just off the master.

"Now what happened, my angel?" She asked, taking a seat on the bed. Zipporah curled up on the bed beside her, snuggling into her mother's side. Silence followed, before Asher finally came out of the bathroom. He'd taken off the shirt and washed the blood off his hands; Ziva held out one of her husband's shirts. The boy snatched it up; it had become habit, not long after they'd arrived in America and had moved in with Tim, back when Ziva was still a Mossad officer, that if the boy was truly upset, he'd slip into Tim's room and pull a shirt out of his dresser, pulling it on. The first time he'd done that had been when they thought Tim would got to jail for killing that Metro cop, and every day after, when they had a major case, or if Tim was hurt, he would curl up in one of his father's shirts.

"I... I went out to... to get the mail..." He took a seat beside his mother, pulling the shirt on and then curled into her other side. "And... and Jet went with me, like... like he always does... and..." He sniffled. "And there was a guy... walking down the street and... and he... he pulled out a gun and... and he... he aimed it and..." The boy swallowed. "He shot... I didn't realize that Jet had jumped at him until I heard the second shot... and then he ran, and I... I looked down, and... _and Jet was laying there_..."

Ziva gathered her son to her chest, rocking him gently. She pressed a kiss to his head, before brushing her fingers through his hair and turning to Zipporah. She pressed a kiss to her daughter's head. "Stay with Brother, my songbird. I'll be right back."

* * *

By the time Tim and Keavy returned, the kids were both asleep on the bed in the main room, and Ziva was sitting at the table, a cup of coffee in her hands. She looked up as the other two entered. "How's Jet?" Tim sighed, going to his wife. Keavy poured a cup of coffee and set it on the table, pushing Tim towards it before pouring one for herself and taking a seat.

"_'twas_ lucky we _go'_ _'im_ there so _fas'_." Keavy told her._ "'e los' a lo' o'_ blood, _bu'_..."

"But he survived, Zi." Tim replied, taking a seat beside her and taking her hand.

"_But?"_ She knew the tone her husband used when there was something particularly painful he was reluctant to mention. "Tim, what is it?"

The two Irish-born shared a glance, before he said,

"They had to... amputate his right front leg. They had no other choice, Zi. He'd barely survived the shot to his side; if they hadn't removed his leg, it would have killed him. We're lucky he's alive as is." He took a sip of his coffee. "He's a strong dog, Jet, but... but one of these days, his body's going to give out, and I don't blame him when it happens."

"As long as we have him when Liron comes home, that's all I care about, Tim." Ziva whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek and squeezing his hand. Then, she stood. "I'll go tell the kids." They watched her go.

"_Ye dinna_ say _anythin'._"

Tim swallowed. "Not my place."

Keavy scoffed lightly, raising an eyebrow. "_T'_ tell _yer_ wife _tha' yer_ son may _nev'r_ come_ 'ome_? _Tha'_ she may well be _buryin' yer_ boy as _welcomin' 'im_ through_ th' fron'_ door?" She leaned close. _"Ye an'_ I both know, Tim, _tha'_ the world does _no'_ work like_ tha'_."

"So does Ziva." He replied. She narrowed her eyes, studying him.

"_Ye los'_ someone close_ t' ye_."

"Haven't you?" He asked, sipping his coffee.

"_Aye_, I did. _Me_ aunt."

He raised an eyebrow. "Small world. So did I."

"Oh really? Who?"

"You tell me first." She shook her head. "Fine. On three?" She thought a moment, before nodding. They counted down softly, before both blurted out,

"_Fiona McGee_."

Tim narrowed his gaze. "Fiona McGee was my father's oldest sister-"

"And _me Ma's_ _bes'_ friend._ 'twas me_ godmother-"

"And mine." He replied, but something struck him as odd. "Who was your mother?" A flash of pained sadness skittered across Keavy's features as she whispered,

"Suzanna Wilson._ Yers_?"

"Elizabeth Harmon." His whisper was soft, almost feather light, and Keavy noticed the bitterness that flashed in his eyes. "John McGee is... _was_ my father. He disowned me when I was eighteen."

"I_ rememb'r meetin'_ John once. _t'_ be _'onest, 'e_ scared me."

Tim chuckled softly. "He scared a lot of people. Passed away last year from cancer; can't say I'm sorry... after what he did to my sister and I-"

"I know, Tim. Fiona told Ma once, wha' 'e'd done t' ye." She reached out, squeezing his hand. "So..." They lapsed into silence for several minutes. "I guess... I guess we're..."

"God siblings." He whispered. She nodded, chuckling softly. A moment passed, before she bit her lip, meeting his gaze.

"I always_ want'd_ a brother." The former agent rolled his eyes, but grinned back at her.


	53. Chapter 53

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Time for a little family reunion...**

Keavy took a deep breath. She'd been waiting years for this. It wouldn't be the first time she'd put a bullet in someone's skull, it was just the first time that she was willing to admit that she was actually going to enjoy doing it. She'd made sure beforehand, that Zipporah and Liam would be taken care of by one of the other agents who'd managed to filtrate the group undercover- taken out of the safe house on an "errand" with said agent, and once they were safely back in Dublin, the rest of the team would go in. She'd spent the last week or so going over the information the kids had gathered, asking their input and promising that they wouldn't be there when the raid took place.

But she'd also had a hard time keeping Ziva from stepping in to join. She understood that both wanted to help, but told them repeatedly that the way they could help was to be there for their children when the raid finally ended and everything came crashing down. Something told her that the kids would need their parents, and that the first thing they'd do would be cling to them and never let go.

She glanced at Mike Cross, who waited patiently for her signal. "You _sure_ the kids won't be in there, Keaves?"

"Positive. They've got their-" She stopped, craning her neck to see. Evelyn Jackson, an agent stationed at the Rota office, slipped out of the building. She waited for Zipporah and Liam to follow, and then shut the door.

_"You remember what he said? Go up the-"_

"_Damn_ her accent is bad." Mike winced. "Worse than yours." He jumped as she punched his shoulder. "Sorry, but it is."

"I know. Tried_ teachin' 'er yest'rday, bu'_... some people _jus' canna_ pick it up."

"I don't know. She has a pretty good Spanish accent-" But their conversation died as they watched the trio pass by the van they were behind. Evelyn cast a glance their way, and Zipporah glanced at them over their shoulder. The girl made a quick heart-symbol over her chest with her hands, the signal that Connelly was in the building, waiting for the shipment to arrive, and that the team had the okay to strike. Keavy nodded, running her index finger down the side of her face to her jaw, the Irish Sign Language symbol for green- the code she'd promised the girl she'd give to let her know she understood. Since Keavy's childhood best friend had been deaf, she'd learned the ISL quickly growing up, and finally could put it to good use. Once the trio were far enough away, she turned to Mike and then spoke into the headpiece she wore.

"All _righ'_, let's go."

* * *

Zipporah looked up as the door to the police station opened. She, Liam and Evelyn were sitting in the Dublin station, waiting for word on the raid, though the girl could silently admit that she was hoping her parents would show and not the agents. Two hours had passed since they'd left the border with the north, and Zipporah was anxious to get home, to be with her parents and brother. This whole raid business had her freaked out beyond belief, and she didn't understand how her parents could have done things like that for so long- that they'd pretty much made careers out of it-

A bark interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up in time to see Jethro hobble into the station. He whimpered, tugging at the leash, and when her father released him from it, the animal rushed towards them. "Jet!" Zipporah dropped to her knees by the chair she'd been sitting in, wrapping her arms around the dog's neck when he plowed into her, all three legs of soft brown fur and wet doggie kisses.

"He insisted on coming along." Tim said, as Ziva went to Evelyn and gave her a hug.

"_Toda_." The agent returned the hug, rubbing her back. No one heard the door open as Evelyn explained the basic workings of the raid, but Jethro turned his head, whimpering.

"Jet? Jet, what is it?" A moment passed, before the dog wriggled out of Zipporah's grip and turned, skidding across the station floor, towards the person who'd been escorted into the station. "Jet, come back-" But she stopped, watching as the dog leapt onto the person, eagerly licking their face and barking excitedly. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she struggled to accept what she was seeing. There was no way-

The person laughed softly. "Hey, Jet. What happened, huh? How'd you lose your leg, huh, buddy?"

"_Abba."_ She swallowed, turning back to her family. "A.. _Asher_..._ Ima_..." Tim looked up, seeing the panic in his daughter's gaze. He pulled away from the others, moving out of the small waiting area and going towards his daughter.

"_Wha's_ _a'matter_, swee-" But he stopped. He watched in silence as Jethro dashed around the person, tail wagging excitedly. The aging German Shepard was acting like a puppy again, barking and jumping and utterly excited to see-

"What are you two staring at? Tim?" Ziva came up behind her husband, and then slowly moved past him, unsure that she was seeing correctly. "L..._ Liron_?" Her choked sob caused the boy to look up, and his green eyes sparked as he met his mother's gaze. A moment passed, before the boy flashed a quick smile, before making his way towards her.

_"Shalom, Ima_." Slowly, Ziva reached up, brushing her fingers over her son's cheek, before letting him wrap his arms around her and bury his face in her dark hair. She broke down, holding tight to her son. Behind her, Tim caught Cross and O'Reilly's eyes, and she shrugged, clearly telling him that they'd talk later. Somehow, amid her tears, Ziva had managed to choke out a never-ending stream of questions, and slowly, painfully, forced herself to pull away from her youngest son. He swallowed, glancing behind him. "Keavy and I... we... we've been living in Dublin." He reached behind him, and the younger girl took his hand. "We... we eloped, Ima. We... shouldn't have but..."

As Liron told his siblings and his mother about what had gone on in the last few months, Tim moved towards the exhausted agents. He gently nudged Cross in the ribs. "How'd it go?" Cross turned to him, not comprehending. He chuckled. "There's coffee. _Garda_ said you can help yourselves." The other man nodded, heading that direction. Once he was gone, Tim turned to his new companion. "So?"

Keavy sighed, leaning back against the wall as she slowly removed her gear. "Connelly's dead. Put the bullet betwixt _'is_ eyes _meself_." Tim raised an eyebrow.

"Betwixt?" She rolled her eyes, shoving him gently. He'd explained their connection to Ziva that morning, how Fiona was connected to both, and how the two agents- one current, one former- were essentially god siblings, because Fiona was both O'Reilly's godmother and his. Ziva had just pressed a kiss to his cheek, saying that it would be nice to have someone besides Tali and Sarah to share in the typical McGee craziness- an obvious meaning that she was happy Tim still had at least some link to his deceased aunt.

"_Sod off_, Tim." He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the wall, facing her.

"How did you find Liron?" She sighed.

"I didn't. 'e found me." Tim nodded.

"I get it. Thank you, Keavy." She smiled softly at him.

_"No'_ a problem. _'ope ye'd_ do _th'_ same for me." The young man seemed to contemplate that for a moment.

"Eh... maybe, if I were_ desp'rate_ enough." He chuckled as she shoved him again. "_Kiddin'_... I said I was _kiddin'_!" He held up his hands. "You know I would." She beamed at him, before taking his face in her hands and pressing a firm kiss to his cheek. Ziva caught the action, and grinned, pressing a kiss to her youngest son's head. Tim met her gaze, finally seeing the beaming happiness in his wife's eyes- a happiness that had all but died with their family's self-imposed separation. But now that Liron was home...

He chuckled, realizing their family was complete once more.

Well, almost.


	54. Chapter 54

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Huh... I just noticed, that I _started_ this series with a 54 chapter story, and I'm... well, essentially _ending_ it with a 54 chapter story. I might come back and revisit this universe and Tim and Ziva's family later, but for now, at least, this is the last story in this... saga, if you will. I hope you all enjoyed the ride- I certainly did- and I'll see you all at the next story I post or update. Until then, much love and keep reading. :)**

**Thanks to puppypants for reviewing 51 and 53, and Reader for reviewing 51, 52 and 53.**

_Silver Spring, Washington, D.C., _

_October_

The team gathered together around the table. All were there to celebrate Maura Werth's birthday, and the child had asked for a Celtic Fairy theme- lots of green, lots of Celtic knot decorations and fairy decorations, to which everyone complied. Jack-o-lanterns and witches, ghosts and other various Halloween decorations covered the house, and Maura, in a green fairy dress with white and green wings, had insisted that she help decorate, even though it was her party. They'd all set about decorating every room to the girl's standards- instead of the usual pink princess decorations, the child had insisted on green, orange, black and white, with Jack-o-lanterns and Celtic knots. The end result was a conglomerate mix of Halloween and St. Patrick's Day- exactly what the child wanted.

Tony and Bishop had since returned from England, with the news that the raid was successful, and the two major groups since disbanded or destroyed. It had, however, taken time for the Republic to get back on its feet, and adjust to the many casualties lost in the fighting. No one had heard from either Tim or Ziva, but that wasn't unusual, since they were most likely also trying to get back to normalcy, but now, with Maura's birthday, all the little girl wanted was her aunt and uncle to be there, for her cousins to be there.

"What're you lookin' for, Brigid?" The child jumped, turning from the window, the curtain falling back into place. Gibbs stood behind her, watching her closely. The child swallowed, something clicking in her mind.

"Who's Brigid?" Gibbs joined her on the sofa, and lifted the curtain.

"She is a patron saint of Ireland. She was a follower of Saint Patrick, if I remember my Celtic mythology correctly." He replied, following her gaze through the glass.

"Oh." Silence settled between the pair. Suddenly, she whispered, "They aren't coming."

Gibbs furrowed his brow, confused by her simple statement, and Damon spoke up behind him. "Tim and Ziva. She's waited by the window every birthday, hoping they'll come up the drive, but they never do. And we've explained repeatedly why they can't come, but..." He shrugged, as Gibbs nodded. Damon turned to his daughter. "Come on sweetie, time to blow out the candles." The child let her father pick her up, and after a moment, Gibbs followed. They all gathered in the dining room, around the table, where a pretty cake sat waiting, with candles all lit to be blown out.

Sarah pulled her daughter into her lap, and the girl listened as those closest to her sang her happy birthday. When the singing finished, Sarah brushed the girl's bangs off her forehead. "Make a wish, Mauraleh." She pressed a kiss to her daughter's head. Tony quickly counted the candles in his head- there was the usual number, plus the one to grow on, but why the extra?

"Um, Sarah, why-"

"Remember what we do with this one, love?" The girl nodded, sitting up. "Say a prayer like we do every year and ask Mr. Jackson to take it to them for us." The others in the team shared a confused glance, but Gibbs just chuckled softly.

"Can I make a wish instead? Or will he not take it?" Sarah sniffled, brushing a tear off her daughter's cheek.

"Of course he'll take it, baby. Mr. Jackson will take whatever we ask for. Right?" She turned to her son, and the boy nodded, laying his head on his father's shoulder. She pressed a kiss to her daughter's forehead. "They are very proud of you, baby, and I know you want them here, but they can't be. But maybe they will be for Christmas." The girl turned back to the candles. Sarah wrapped her arms tight around her daughter. "Now think real hard. Make sure your wish is nice and clear, so Mr. Jackson understands, because the last thing we want is for him to have to come back and ask because your wish wasn't clear."

The girl closed her eyes tight, taking several moments to think of her wish, before taking a deep breath and blowing out her candles. As she blew the last one out, the front door opened, but no one noticed, they were all too focused on the little girl.

The rain that had started earlier in the day began to fall harder; lightning split the sky, and the door slammed closed, unheard by the loud roar of thunder directly over the house. The person who'd entered the house softly made their way back towards the dining room. One of the windows left open in the kitchen allowed the wind to enter, and as it danced throughout the lower level of the house, snuffing out the candles in the jack-o-lanterns, another burst of lightning split the sky. Sarah glanced over her shoulder; it was bad enough her daughter had to have been born on Halloween, but that she was now officially freaked out-

She turned back to her daughter, pressing a kiss to her child's curls as Damon cut the cake. Footsteps entered the dining room, and as Sarah turned, another bolt of lightning split the sky. She gasped softly, before realizing who stood in front of her. "T..." But she couldn't get the words out. Although, Maura had no trouble when she saw who it was.

"_Uncle Tim! Auntie Ziva!"_ The child leapt from her mother's lap, rushing towards the couple. Tim caught his niece as she threw herself into his arms, and it was then that Sarah realized that her brother and sister-in-law were soaked through to the skin. Minutes passed, before the front door opened and closed once more, and after several seconds, Asher and his siblings appeared, also soaked through. _"Mommy, Daddy! My wish came true! Mr. Jackson made my wish come true!"_ Maura cried, throwing her arms around her aunt. Ziva caught the child, as Sarah climbed to her feet and rushed to her brother.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, wrapping her arms around her brother. Tim pulled away; the others soon jumped into action, grabbing towels and blankets, tending to the teenagers and Ziva, whom Maura refused to be parted from. "Timmy, it's storming out-"

"I know, Sar. We... we caught the first flight we could out of Dublin..." He shivered, even as Sarah accepted the blanket Tali had gotten and wrapped it around her brother's shoulders. "Couldn't miss another of Mauraleh's birthdays. She's as... important as Asher and his siblings are." Sarah reached up, gently taking her brother's face in her hands. She choked on a long held-back sob, brushing her thumbs over the apples of his cheeks.

"Why? Maura would have understood. She's understood every birthday before this one." He shrugged.

"She's family. And..." He sighed, wrapping his arms around his sister's waist. "After everything, we just..." He glanced at the team, watched as Maura latched onto Ziva's neck and refused to let go. "We just needed to be with family." Sarah grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek, before wrapping her arms tight around his neck.


End file.
